The Spanish Helmet Read online

  Dwight dodged the light talk.

  ‘Matt, I’m calling about your friend, Warren Rennie.’

  Matt sat up properly and turned the bedside lamp on. He had a bad feeling about this.

  ‘What about Warren?’

  ‘There’s no easy way to put it, Matt.’

  ‘Just give it to me straight, I can handle it.’

  Matt thought he heard Dwight chuckle.

  ‘Did you never bother to check him out before you jumped in on this foolish errand? He’s a fraud.’

  ‘What do you mean, a fraud?’

  ‘He’s not qualified. He just runs around with crazy conspiracy theories, trying to convince the world that New Zealand was discovered by the Celts!’

  ‘Where do you get this stuff, Dwight?’

  ‘Colleagues in New Zealand.Qualified historians and archaeologists.’

  ‘Did you stop to consider they might be wrong?’

  Dwight laughed. ‘Wrong? Don’t be naive Matt, they’re professionals. They’ve done their research.’

  ‘Have they? Could you send me a copy of their work then? Like a report of a complete archaeological investigation that shows emphatically that the Celts weren’t in New Zealand?’

  Dwight was silent.

  ‘Do you have any reports like that, Dwight?’

  ‘No. But if academics are saying it isn’t so, then it isn’t so. You’re talking about your peers, Matt. Do you really think you can rely on some hack fool more than you can on qualified scientists?’

  ‘If the qualified scientists have been compromised by the status quo, yes.’

  Matt smiled. It felt good to stand up to Dwight.

  ‘Argh. Matt, you’re acting like as big a fool as your friend. I’m more than disappointed in you right now.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dwight. But I need to do this. Don’t worry though, I’m being careful not to bring the department in to any ill repute.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, just going there and hanging about with Warren Rennie is already seeing to that.’ Dwight sighed. ‘I’ll only ask you once again, Matt, will you leave this investigation alone and get back here before doing any further damage to my reputation?’

  Your reputation? What an arrogant prick. Matt hesitated. He didn’t want to jeopardise his job at the department,

  ‘No. I have to see this through, at least until I’m satisfied that someone qualified, me in this case, has actually considered the possibility properly.’

  ‘Then you leave me with no choice. You should accept this conversation as an oral warning. Your first written warning is in your letterbox.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding, Dwight. That’s over the top.’

  ‘If you decide to take my advice and leave this Celtic tomfoolery well alone, come back home. Then I’ll retract the warnings. Goodbye, Matt.’

  Dwight was gone. Matt put the phone on the bedside cabinet and lay down to stare at the ceiling. Some of the paint was cracking and peeling off.

  Someone must have got to Dwight. He can’t be shallow enough not to question his peers, can he?

  Matt leaned over and slapped the lamp’s switch. He rolled back into bed and tossed and turned until he finally found what seemed like a comfortable position. It wasn’t, but after a while, he fell asleep anyway.

  CHAPTER

  18

  Matt looked down at his watch when he saw Aimee approach him. Three minutes late. Not bad at all.

  ‘Hey,’ Aimee said when she stood in front of him. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

  ‘You’re not late.’

  ‘I saw you looking at your watch, silly.’

  ‘Sorry. Old habit. Picked it up in Switzerland.’

  ‘You’ll have to tell me all about it sometime.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘So I thought we could go to Mission Bay for lunch. It’s a nice little spot just around the harbour from here.’

  ‘OK. We’ll walk then?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. C’mon, the car’s parked in the Downtown Shopping Centre,’ Aimee said, pointing over her shoulder at the building behind her.

  Twenty minutes of fighting a steady stream of traffic along the coast later, Aimee had squeezed her little hatchback into a spot that Matt thought was suitable for a motorbike. The girl knew how to manoeuvre a car, that much was certain. They climbed out and walked along a row of restaurants, many of which had outdoor seating overlooking the road, a park, and beyond that the harbour. Matt would have been happy with any of them.

  ‘Shall we just grab something from McDonalds?’ Aimee asked.

  Any of them except for McDonalds that was.

  ‘Sure,’ Matt said, not wanting to rock the boat.

  ‘OK. We’ll get something to take away and go and sit up at the Savage Memorial.’

  Matt agreed, despite having no idea what Aimee was talking about. They went into the burger joint and Matt randomly picked out a burger. He wasn’t vastly experienced in McDonalds dining. He hadn’t been since he was a kid. He had to admit though, it did smell good. Fries always did.

  They walked up a path of stairs and onto a large green parkland area. As they strolled over the headland towards the coast, a monument and long pond came into view. Aimee explained that this was a memorial to Joseph Savage, New Zealand’s first Labour Prime Minister. Being built on a gunning placement from the Russian Scare, it had good views of the harbour and made a nice place for a picnic. Matt had to agree.

  They sat and ate lunch, making small talk about the view and weather, but Matt had something else on his mind. It had eaten away at him all night. He had hardly slept a wink. The guilt of hiding an archaeological find was more than Matt had bargained for. Combining that guilt with the worry that was building about being exposed was even worse. Then there was his last conversation with Aimee. Were people talking about him? Really? Was he coming off in a good or bad light? What did the DCI know about him? All of these questions span around in his head, demanding answers. Worst of all, though, was something else. It was the doubt that had plagued him since yesterday. The concern that he was in New Zealand on a wild goose chase. That Warren was too deeply entwined in his theory to see what was significant and what wasn’t. Up until now, the only really significant finding that Warren had shown him was the mirror. Everything else was speculation. Great supporting evidence, but everything hinged on the mirror, and for now, Warren wasn’t revealing that. Matt had to play his waiting game, out of respect. Warren was clearly a man who knew what he was doing. He knew the New Zealand ways of things. But it didn’t make him feel any less uneasy. He needed an ear. Someone to give him a bit of guidance. Someone who could give him some answers. He hoped Aimee was that person.

  ‘I did a little more research into those theories we discussed the other day, even the Celtic one,’ Aimee said. ‘Actually, I looked up New Zealand pseudo-history and found out a bit more about some of the stuff that goes on in those circles. It’s interesting, to say the least. A lot of crackpots, but also some valid stuff. You ain’t all nutters!’

  ‘Glad to hear it!’

  They briefly discussed the Kumara and Hangi again, followed by the Pohutukawa tree in Spain. It appeared that it had never been aged professionally, but was estimated at 700 years old. Matt would love to get it aged by an arborist. But this wasn’t what he was here for. ‘We should look into it if we get a chance. Maybe a colleague of mine can contact Spain.’

  ‘Yeah? That would be cool. I love a mystery. I should stop babbling.’

  ‘Actually, I came to lunch with you because I wanted you to babble a bit.’

  ‘What do you mean exactly?’ Aimee asked, sounding a little offended.

  ‘I need your advice.’

  ‘Independent ears?’

  ‘Yes,’ Matt said.’ You see, I’ve been out for a day or two with my friend, Warren. He’s shown me a lot of sites that he believes could be of ancient Celtic origin, but I still have my doubts. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, so I hoped maybe you had some ideas
or opinions on the situation.’

  Aimee sighed. ‘To be honest, I don’t give the Celtic theory a great deal of support. I’ve had a bit of a look into it, and it really does seem to be strongly based on mere speculation.’

  She nailed it on the head. Speculation. Exactly what Matt had decided. But could he push her towards more than speculation?

  ‘Warren has found a couple of Celtic coins, and... ‘ He hesitated.

  ‘And?’ Aimee asked, sounding thoroughly interested.

  ‘I guess I can tell you. I need to talk to someone.’

  ‘Talk to me,’ she said, with authority, but remaining soft and comforting.

  ‘He also found a mirror, an ancient Celtic mirror. That together with the coins signifies a burial ritual.’

  Aimee gasped.

  ‘He hasn’t told the DCI,’ Matt said, ‘about the mirror, I mean. In fact, he hid it from them.’

  ‘He did what?’ Aimee voice was full of shock and anger, surprising Matt. But it softened with her next words. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s dangerous. He’s breaking the law and could get in trouble. He could get you in trouble. Imagine if news of your involvement in this got back to your university back home. I don’t know how things are in the UK, but if I tried that here, I’d likely be thrown out.’

  ‘I know, it isn’t a good situation, but I trust Warren. He really believes he has his reasons.’

  ‘The mirror and the coins do make a difference to the credibility of the theory. Why have you got doubts?’

  ‘It just seems a little empty. I mean, the mirror and coins is one thing, three things actually, but there really should be more evidence that supports the theory the Celts were here. Aside from some possible alignments in Auckland and rumours of more in some valleys up north, I haven’t seen or heard of anything else.’

  ‘There was that one interesting place I read about,’ Aimee said, ‘the Crosshouse.’

  ‘You mentioned that the other day.’

  ‘Yeah. It was a Maori meeting house near to Rotorua. It appeared to have been built in a design that afforded it perfectly aligned equinox sun and moon rises. Maybe we could visit the site while you’re here.’

  ‘It would be interesting. I suppose the observation of alignments makes it a possible link to Warren’s Celt theory. But then, a lot of other ancient civilisations studied the heavens too. The Mayans, Egyptians, etcetera. I think it would be great to see the site.’

  ‘What will you do about Warren? You should be careful, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of the DCI’

  ‘I have to wait and see. All I know is that I don’t want to do anything that’ll affect our friendship. It means too much to me. But if I need some help, or more information, or if I have time to visit the Crosshouse site, can I call you?’

  ‘I’d love that.’

  The subject changed again. They discussed friends and family and some of their past embarrassments and successes. They discussed work colleagues and their bosses too. It brought back some of the nervousness to Matt, wondering how all this would go down with Professor Pick. But generally, Matt felt better. Aimee was exactly what he needed. Someone interested, but distanced from the theory. The Crosshouse sounded fascinating. It had potential to be good supporting evidence to Warren’s theories. Matt wondered if Warren knew of it, and decided to ask him that evening. At least now, he felt like he could go on with the investigation with some renewed hope. Maybe there was some credit to the theory after all. He promised himself to visit the Crosshouse as soon as he had visited his father.

  CHAPTER

  19

  Tuesday, July 6, 1526

  We have been sailing for almost five weeks since we last saw the fleet. Our course should have taken us to the Moluccas by now. The weather has been very pleasant. The ocean here is calm and peaceful. I understand why Magallanes named it the Mar Pacifico. My body feels at ease and refreshed. The crew are in good spirits. The wine tastes better here too. The skies are mostly fine, filled with good breezes for sailing and a clear sightline to the distant horizon by day and the stars by night.

  But despite the conditions, we have yet to sight the Moluccas. I am concerned that we may be too far north in our bearings.

  Friday, July 9, 1526 – 07:00

  Early this morning, shortly after midnight, we struck a reef. The impact has caused considerable damage and the lives of seven crew were taken. In the morning light we have seen that we are wedged on the eastern shores of an atoll. We gave our departed men a sea burial and threw two of the Falcon cannons overboard. I had hoped the lesser weight would help to refloat the vessel but as yet it hasn’t worked. We will need to jettison more of our stock to avoid damage to the ship from the rising tide. Our effort in refloating the San Lesmes is a blessed distraction from the thoughts of losing so many men.

  Friday, July 9, 1526 – 16:30

  We have successfully refloated the ship after throwing a further two falcons and some low-quality shot over the side. We are now left with just the culverins and some light weapons and armour. The ship is in need of repair but there is nowhere on this part of the flat island to do this. Over to the western side, however, I can see a sheltered area with some trees. We will make our way there for repairs.

  Now that we are again afloat, the loss of those men is weighing heavily on my soul.

  CHAPTER

  20

  The care home looked like a care home, but it was in a beautiful location, on a gentle hillside overlooking a pretty bay. Matt decided it would be an OK sort of place to live, if you didn’t have another choice, at least.

  ‘Dad’s got a little unit over here in the north wing,’ Nadine said, as they walked up a broad concrete path that curved parallel to the curved building.

  ‘I like what they’ve done to maximize the views.’ Matt turned to his right to admire the beach and park that the large picture windows afforded. ‘It must be nice waking up to that.’

  ‘For sure. Dad insisted that he got to come here if he wasn’t able to stay at home. I couldn’t look after him, it’s too much work for me.’

  ‘I can’t even imagine.’

  Nadine stopped in front of a door. ‘Here we are. So, like I said, I haven’t told him you’re coming. He may get a shock or mightn’t understand who you are. Be patient, he doesn’t always make a lot of sense, but this is your Dad.’

  Matt stood still and stiff as a board as Nadine tapped on the door. A grunt came from inside. Nadine opened the door and stepped in. Matt caught his first sight of his father, who faced the other direction and looked taut from this side. Nadine greeted him and said that she had brought a visitor with her.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ Matt’s father growled as he turned to see what intruder Nadine had dragged in.

  Matt prepared to turn on his heels and run, but it was too late. His father’s face changed from a gruff frown into a glowing mass of smile, and then it changed again, into a screwed up mess of tears and shaking.

  ‘Matthew!’ His father cried. ‘You’ve finally come.’ He turned to Nadine. ‘I told you he’d come, didn’t I? I told you, and you all never believed me.’

  Matthew was glued to the spot, uncomfortable as hell but overcome by the emotions his father showed and those that flooded over himself. His father was actually happy to see him. His father loved him. Matt took a deep breath, walked over, shook his father’s hand and took a seat next to him at the small round table. It was a good place to start.

  They talked about family for the next hour, about what went wrong and why they had been apart so long. Andy Robertson never blamed Matthew’s mother for any of what happened, only himself. As Matt listened to his father, he felt himself getting lighter. A tingly warmth trickled through his body, leaving him feeling giddy. He knew, that with some effort from both sides, they could build a relationship. There was a lot of ground to make up.

  ‘So what do you do Matt? Why are you in New Zealand? You didn’t just come to find me?’

  M
att wanted to lie, but would never deceive someone like that. ‘I’m here on business. A bit of research I guess you would say.’

  ‘You’re a researcher too? I used to dabble in academics.’

  ‘Dad,’ Nadine said, teasing him, ‘you didn’t just dabble. You spent hours in that shed of yours chasing down one theory or another.’

  ‘Right you are dear. Right you are.’ He turned back to Matt. ‘So, what’s your study?’

  ‘I’m a Professor of History at the University of South-West England. I double majored in History and Archaeology, and then continued with a doctorate in history, mostly in Switzerland.’ Matt looked at Nadine and his father. They stared at each other, smiles dancing between them.

  ‘When did you say your relationship with your mother got strained?’ his father asked

  ‘About when I went to Switzerland. The distance, it put a strain on things.’

  ‘Explains a lot.’ Nadine directed her comment at Matt’s father.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘What?’ Matt was perplexed.

  ‘Your mother never told you what I did for a living?’

  ‘No. She barely ever mentioned you.’

  ‘I’m going to hazard a guess here, Matt. Your mother didn’t become distant with you because of the physical distance. She became distant with you because you followed in your father’s footsteps.’

  Matt was perplexed. His father was a historian?

  ‘It must have damned near killed your mum when you left her to study the same subject that I pissed her off so much with.’

  ‘Ah.’ Was this guilt he was feeling? He felt guilty for upsetting his Mum by following his passion? This was silly.

  ‘What are you studying in New Zealand?’ Matt’s father asked, pulling himself up with his good arm, as if to hear better.

  ‘Something a little controversial.’

  ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘Dad’s no stranger to controversy,’ Nadine said.