Mid morning had broken over the archaeological dig, deep in the Black forest; about an hour’s drive east of the German town of Lahr. The sun had just begun to melt last night's snow, turning the soft white flakes into a dreary and dripping sludge. A wolf carefully trod across the moss covered ground, sniffing the air; always weary of what was around the next corner. It cocked its head and growled menacingly; unsure of what to make of the activity in the distance. Winter was barely half way over and the wolf was hungry. It had caught a rabbit a few days ago, but the hunger pangs had quickly returned. Thinking better of it, the wolf gazed down at the encampment, let out a long and melancholic howl, then turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the forest. He would have to find food somewhere else this time.
Inside the metal shack, a woman was busy labeling samples. She raised an eye upwards and muttered to herself,” Damn wolves.” They didn’t often come sniffing around camp and even then a shot from the rifle would send even the most determined creature running. Dr Karin Mayer, 37 was the lead of an archaeological expedition to the Black forest to investigate the remains of early Germanic tribes in the forest. Penn State University had provided the grant the previous summer, but the results were less than encouraging. Only a few basic tools and ornaments were dug up, hardly surprising for this area and she doubted if the scientific community was going to go crazy over her findings. The University was demanding bang for their buck and constantly pestering her and she knew their patience with her was rapidly running out. Her luck has been poor lately, often coming up short on her digs. Maybe she just didn’t care as much as she used to.
Doctor Meyer, 6 foot 4 with long brown hair and still curvy even though she was not deep in her thirties, was one of those classic where are they now stories. Graduated Cum laude from Notre Dame, she soon became the darling of the archaeological community, publishing critically acclaimed research that was miles ahead of her peers. She was the first name on every department’s list when a new expedition was mentioned and her public speaking engagements always drew large crowds. But her meteoric rise was not to last and over the years her results had started to lose their shine. A few failed digs had not helped her diminished reputation and slowly she was worked out to the outer fringes and given the digs that other’s simply didn’t want or thought beneath them. This was to be her last dig of any note before being shuffled off to a community college, teaching history to the low rent crowd in the middle of God knows nowhere. Her lifelong addiction to alcohol hadn’t helped matters either and was responsible for at least a few failed relationships.
She heard the footsteps of heavy boots on the rocky path outside and wondered if it wasn’t Gustav, a master’s student that was finishing a thesis that was tagging along for the credits and the experience. He had tried to flirt with her once or twice but she had rebuffed him. She didn’t have the energy to be playing wet nurse to a college grad with more ego than brains. She was just about to focus her attention back on the samples when she heard the knob turn and an out of breath intern (whose name she hadn’t bothered to learn) stormed into the room. It took him a few seconds to catch his breath, but he managed to gather himself quickly.
“What is it? Can’t you see I’m busy?” She said impatiently.
“You have to see this. Over…over by the far trench.” He was waving his arms wildly as she gave him a withering look.
“What? More iron fragments? Don’t waste my time; I have better things to do.”
“No, you have to come quickly.” He hurriedly ran from the room. Curiosity got the better of Dr. Meyer as she reached for her work boots and rain jacket. Something had spooked the intern, but it was most likely nothing, as they tended to overreact to the smallest of finds. Calmly closing the office door behind her and walking down the well trodden mud path, she saw most of the group had gathered and was staring down at something of interest. Gustav saw her and came running.
“Dr. Meyer, you won’t believe what we’ve found. As you know, we moved our focus away from the far trench a week ago, well one of the interns was looking for a digging tool he had misplaced and saw that yesterday’s rain had moved a considerable amount of mud and well, I could not believe my eyes, so we had to call you.” He talked in a rapid fire fashion as I pushed through the crowd. What I saw next, made my jaw drop to the floor.
There before us lay a skeleton sticking partially out of the ground. I grabbed a nearby tool box and carefully lowered myself down into the muddy trench. Gustav followed me down.
“How can this be? There are no signs of any graveyards for miles around here. Surely this must be a hoax of some sort.” He babbled on as I tried to concentrate.
“Not sure yet.” I muttered, trying to make sense of this all. Something had caught my eye as I reached for a brush behind me. Working slowly yet diligently, I removed the dirt from the skeleton. I swear I had seen the dull gleam of metal through the mud and my suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later.
The skeleton had a metal chest piece on. I sat in stunned silence before turning to Gustav.
“Call Dr Rodriguez and be quick about it.” He scampered out of the hole and went looking for the academic. I had to be sure of what I was looking at before I could say something. I just had to be sure about this. A few minutes later I heard Gustav return with the doctor in tow. Dr. Emile Rodriguez was a brilliant osteoarchaeologist, one of the leading men in his field and was regarded as the top specialist on human bones. He was also a war nut and that was why I called him. The deep set man lowered himself gingerly into the trench and adjusted his glasses as he walked over to me.
“I hear you have uncovered something of great interest.” He always spoke in a soft tone that belied his size.
“It would appear so. Doc, I don’t know much about armor, but this does not look Germanic to me. Care to have a look for me?” I asked. He bent down and started to inspect the metal, tapping his fingers on his stomach, then adjusting his glasses and scratching his rapidly balding head.
“My dear Doctor Mayer, I do believe that someone is trying to play a prank on you here.”
“How so?”
“Well,” he tapped his nose in thought. “This is a Cuirass, a breastplate commonly worn by Roman gladiators. But we are miles from any known battlefield where a Roman soldier could have fallen and to find a piece of gladiator armor here, well it seems your pranksters took it a bit far.” He chuckled to himself then started to walk away. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you; your gladiator is not a he. It’s female.” I stared at him in shocked silence as he climbed out of the trench. I was taken for a fool again. Hearing the laughter of the others, I angrily kicked out at a clump of nearby mud. A dull thud answered me as I furrowed my brow.
There was something buried next to the skeleton. Working feverishly, I scraped away the mud, reached down and pulled a metal box out of the earth. It had been stained by the soil around it, but it was unlocked and unspoilt by grave robbers. The rusty lock quickly gave way as I opened the small box in anticipation. A faded yellow book lay inside. With trembling hands, I gently lifted it up and made out the faint gold lettering on the cover.
Immediately I knew that it was not a joke and it was real.
The cover simply read: The life and times of Helena, the last Guardian.
