22. ST MARY’S INSTITUTE OF HISTORICAL RESEARCH INCIDENT REPORT

Competition entry by Joe Tetsab

It's not Snickers

It all started so well. The first 5 crews had been, made their observations, returned and reported before handing their pods on to the next. Of course, we could not have one crew tracking him because of the inability of humans to be twice in the same time free: machines – fine.

The plan was simple—observe Pheidippides’ run from Marathon to Athens, and see the aftermath.

We had plotted the likely route of the 26 miles, spotted places where a pod would not be noticed, and where our people could be innocent passers-by getting the hot news.

I am Frank Gatwa, Historian at the Institute of St Mary’s, where we investigate historical events in contemporary time. I was with Siobhàn Purashotoman of R&D who was keeping an eye on our equipment. I have long had Feelings for Siobhan, but have no idea if they are reciprocated. Maybe I was distracted by her beauty and presence. Security was provided by Simon Kazantzakis, returning to the land of his forebears for the first time.

Siobhan’ mixed heritage, of Sri Lankan and Irish, and my Welsh/Botswana means that we can pass off as almost any race, from southern African to Mediterranean and thus fit in anywhere without raising eyebrows.

Simon, of course, looks like he stepped off a frieze in the not-very British Museum.

In addition, we also had another ‘team member’ of whom we were unaware to start with. That’s how the trouble started. It really wasn’t my fault.

We had emerged near modern day Khalandri, not far from the city itself. It was weird to look towards the Acropolis, but not to see the Parthenon on top. We had calculated that we would be the last team but one to see the man on his run, and another, larger group would follow him on in to Athens to see what actually happened.

Previous teams had reported back on his progress. For a man who had spent the early part of the day fighting a battle, he had appeared to be spry and quite vigorous.

Team 1 had stayed near to the battlefield, partly to see him set off, but also to try to get an impression of actual casualty numbers.

Subsequent crews had been positioned at regular intervals along his route, getting an impression of his pace, and reactions of locals to his news.

One advantage of travelling through time is that a team could come back and spend several hours of our time briefing the next one, so they could time their pod arrival neatly. We were timing our arrivals to be there 30 or 40 minutes before Pheidippides was due, and recording all we could. We then planned to leave again 30 or 40 minutes after he had passed, so none of the locals could enquire where this new building had appeared from.

Siobhan , Simon and I had arrived about 30 minutes before he was expected, parked under an olive tree in a field, with a low wall between us and the road. We spent that time observing from within the pod. As his ETA approached, we opened the door and were aware of a black and tan streak across the floor and outside.

‘Oh, firetruck,’ exclaimed Simon ‘that was that psycho cat who hangs around the kitchen, wasn’t it? Vertigo, or whatever his name is’.

We caught sight of his tail disappearing over the wall towards the road. Several minutes of frantic searching was useless, until I caught sight of some movement in a patch of grass a few metres away. Our cat was plonked on top of another, in a position familiar to anyone who has observed mating moggies.

Simon hoicked me over the wall, and I rushed towards the loving couple.

I called back to the pod that I needed some cold water PDQ, to separate the pair.

Siobhan came running with a flask of water, which was rapidly deployed. Our cat lay there in a soggy, disappointed heap, but tried to escape.

I threw myself into the road and grabbed him.

It was at this point that I became aware of a hoplite heading straight for me, but with his head turned towards a family on a cart heading towards Marathon. He tripped on my flailing leg, and hit the road hard.

With his head.

Still trying to subdue an angry, sexually frustrated moggy, I assessed the situation.

We could not leave the cat behind, out of his own time, and we had the problem of the focus of the mission lying in a crumpled heap, apparently unconscious.

Simon had had the bright idea of grabbing a basket from the pod, with a blanket in it. These are often very useful in almost any time or place, for camouflage or concealing modern weapons.

He grabbed the cat and stuffed him in the basket, and held the blanket down as best he could.

‘Put him in the toilet, and be sure to shut the door’, I yelled, as he headed back to the pod.

Siobhàn joined me beside the fallen runner. Luckily, the family in the cart had passed, and gone around a corner.

We checked him over. Breathing, but very unconscious.

‘Bugger,’ said Siobhan.

‘Indeed’, I responded.

We considered various options. Take him back to St Mary’s for treatment, and bring him back?

The message had to be delivered to Athens in about the next hour or so.

A smile spread across Siobhàn’s face.

‘Take your kit off -you are about the same size as him. Get his gear on, and you have to do the last few miles. Simon is much too tall.’

‘But didn’t he proclaim the news and drop dead?’ I asked. ‘I am glad he was a messenger and soldier, not an athlete: I wouldn’t want to run that naked’

‘hmm,’ muttered Siobhan,’ you, as a Greek Athlete... I would like to see that’, and smiled.

She thought for a moment, and came up with a Brilliant Idea.

‘Listen, there are two more teams between here and the city centre. We can get them to form a gang, and recruit others as they pass. You collapse, and we whisk you away in the melee’

‘And him? What do we do with him?’ I asked.

‘Hmmm.... which was that island that that other crew encountered Herodotus? He can be dropped off there, and live out his life recounting war stories. Will anyone believe him? Herodotus was writing history decades after the event.’

For a plan that was made up in dire straits, on the spur of the moment, it worked a treat.

And that, dear reader, is how a lad from Brighton delivered the news χαρά! Κερδίζουμε (Joy! We win!) of victory to Athens.

---

CLICK HERE for information on how to enter the competition.

---