The Spanish Helmet (4 page)

‘What about my trip?’

‘My understanding is that you’re going to New Zealand to do some work on a pseudo history theory. You know the department’s stand on issues like this.

‘Where do you get your information from, Dwight?’

‘That isn’t important, since your lack of denial confirms it’s true.’

‘I don’t have to justify what I do in my own time.’

‘Nothing you do during this journey of yours will escape my attention. If you step one foot out of line and embarrass this school, it’ll be your job. It doesn’t matter if you aren’t on the clock, your name is associated with me, and I won’t accept any foolish witch-hunts.’

‘I think you’re blowing this out of proportion.’

‘You have no idea what sort of trouble you’re delving into, do you? Be very, very careful what sort of ideas you play with. You’ve been warned.’

Matt watched, as with his final words, the right prick turned on his heels and shuffled off back towards their office block, his comb-over clinging to his head like six lonely strands of spaghetti on an upturned bowl in a cheap Italian restaurant.

Thursday, August 13, 1525

We made good time to La Gomera. The winds and saints are in our favour. We have taken on food stores for the expedition and depart for South America tomorrow. During the two weeks here I have enjoyed the company of the master and pilot. They are good men in both their navigational skills and their attitudes. Between us, I am confident we have a crew capable of making a safe passage through the Estrecho de Magallanes. Tonight we will go ashore together and toast our pending journey.
A last drink on land before the long weeks that lie ahead.

Tuesday, January 12, 1526

We have reached a safe haven at the Santa Cruz River, about forty-three leagues from the Estrecho de Magallanes. It is a great relief to have made it here alive. We are now but five ships. The flagship, Santa Maria, has rejoined the fleet, since we were all separated in a storm that struck us south of the Rio de la Plata. The rest of us found each other within a few days. However, the San Gabriel went astray went astray. I fear deeply for the men that sail her. They remain in our prayers. We have sent the pinnace, the Santiago, to a small island near the mouth of the river to erect a cross and to leave a message for our kinsmen. It tells them we are going to continue to the Estrecho de Magallanes to refit and collect wood and water, and that we will wait for Loaisa at the port of Sardinas.

These southern climes are warm at this time of year. The air is fresh and standing on dry land again has brought immense joy to
myself
and the crew. The coastline is beautiful and would surely make a wonderful home for any fellow Spaniards who choose to come. Fresh water and food are available in abundance. We will all make the most of the time we stay here, for the journey ahead promises to be harder yet.

Matt wasn’t a good flyer. Once he was up it was basically all right, but take-off and landing made him bloody nervous. It was something about not being in control. He had the same problem with heights. Walking along a cliff without a railing or travelling in an aerial cableway in the Swiss Alps always made his palms sweat like this. Regardless of how much he looked forward to skiing back down. To calm himself, he would slip a couple of pieces of chewing gum into his mouth just before the aircraft would taxi off down the runway. He felt calmed by it. It gave him something else to concentrate on. 

Matt stole glances at the attractive young woman sitting next to him, by the window. Her clothing was quite a contrast
to his own
. While he was dressed in his staple of trousers, collared shirt, and brown leather shoes, she wore the ever-casual and popular sneakers, jeans and T-shirt. Just before executing his chewing gum manoeuvre he worked up the courage to use her as a distraction from his lack thereof.

‘Where are you off to then?’ he asked. He cursed himself for not being witty enough to come up with something exciting and original.

‘Home,’ she replied, looking happy for an excuse to close her in-flight magazine, ‘Auckland, New Zealand.’

‘Oh really?
Me too.’

Matt was genuinely surprised the person in the very next seat was also transferring to the same connecting flight as him when they reached Singapore. He wondered if they would be seated near each other on the second leg of the journey. Hold back, he thought, she might yet turn out to be a real fruit loop, better get to know her before you decide you want to sit with her the whole way.

They sat in silence again as the aircraft tore off down the runway and pushed them back into their seats. Matt concentrated on chewing and covertly wiping his palms dry down the front of his beige trousers. He hoped she didn’t notice the faint marks his sweaty hands left on the light fabric. He seemed to be safe, since she appeared to be engrossed in an article about a resort near Singapore. But it was her who looked up and broke the silence.

‘I’m Aimee,’ she offered.

‘Matthew Cam... Matt.’ He reached out his hand.

‘Wait a second,’ she said, with such gusto his hand leapt backwards in shock, ‘you’re Matthew Cameron, aren’t you?’

Matt was confused. He was one hundred percent convinced he had never met Aimee before, yet she seemed to know him. He wasn’t sure whether he should be honoured or terrified. She must have sensed his apprehension because she softened a little and relaxed.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m just amazed that of all the people I could sit next to in plane, I get seated next to someone whose lecture I attended yesterday.’

‘I beg your pardon? You were at my lecture?’

Matt racked his brain. He had used all fifty minutes of his lecture to look around at who was in attendance. He had noted to himself which of his students didn’t turn up and also which of the academic staff did. There had only been about thirty members of the public in the theatre, and Matt was convinced he would have noticed a pretty woman his age. Then it hit him.

‘You weren’t by chance wearing a purple pullover were you?’ Matt asked, hoping he wasn’t giving away his feelings about that monstrosity.

‘You don’t like my jumper?’ she asked with a cheeky grin, ‘my mum knitted that for me I’ll have you know.’ Her smile told him he didn’t have to defend himself.

‘So what brought you to my lecture?’

‘I’m a Post Graduate student at Auckland University. I’m working on a doctorate in history. I’d been attending a workshop at the department during the week and had the afternoon off. I thought it might be interesting.’

Matt decided not to press his luck by asking if it was.

‘So what takes you to New Zealand?’ she asked.

‘Actually, I’ve been asked by a friend of mine to come over and look at some revisionist New Zealand history. He has a theory New Zealand was discovered prior to the Maori or British and wants the opinion of some outside sources.’

Aimee smiled at him.
A smile that almost seemed to apologise.

‘You’re going to have a tough time doing that,’ she said, ‘I’ve studied history for six years now and have only occasionally heard mention of the alternative history theories in official study material.’ She wiggled her legs. Perhaps trying to avoid DVT, Matt thought. ‘It’s something that’s only ever denied in official circles.’

‘And in unofficial circles?’

‘It interests me. I’ve never looked deeply into any of the theories, but I’m aware of half a dozen or so. One day I may even take the time to research one or two of them. But I haven’t had any real call to until now.’

‘Half a dozen?
I didn’t realise there was so many ideas out there.’

‘For sure, every madman and his dog
has
a theory of alternative history and a couple of pretty sane people have one too.’

‘And what are the ‘madman’ theories then?’

‘Maybe it’s a bit strong to say a ‘madman’ theory. It’s rather a case of some people that support them being too… keen.’

‘How so?’

‘Take for example the theory that the Celts discovered New Zealand,’ Aimee said. ‘You should like that one.’

She had no idea. It was a perfect place for her to start. Matt wanted as much info as he could get.

‘The idea that Celts discovered New Zealand centuries prior to the Maori has been around for a while. Some farmers to the north of Auckland, on the Kaipara Harbour, found some large stones that they decided - in their professional opinion - were megalithic monuments.
Henges and circles.’

‘So why haven’t I heard of these?’ Matt lied, remembering all of the conversations he had with Warren about New Zealand’s standing stones.

‘Probably because they’ve never been taken seriously by anyone with a qualification,’ Aimee said, ‘the whole situation is confounded by some of the people that stand behind the theory. Some of the supporters go way beyond what’s appropriate.’

‘Ah, the madmen.’
Matt laughed. ‘What is it exactly that they do wrong?’

‘The main problem is their approach to it all offends too
many sensitivities
. One or two groups even run big websites spouting their theories all over the place. That would be OK in
itself
, but the content of the websites is often overtly racist against the Maori. They suggest that Maori are impure and inferior, that God will smite them for their evil ways. They accuse the Maori of blocking access to the sites they want to study and think the government helps to cover it up.
Political correctness.’

‘But what do they have to gain from proving their theory, why are they so stubborn?’ Matt asked.

‘Money.’

Matt was about to ask how a change in the history of New Zealand could possibly provide some sort of payout to these theorists, but just as he opened his mouth, dinner arrived.

‘Chicken or Beef?’

‘Chicken’ Aimee said.

The steward passed a foil covered tray over Matt to Aimee.

‘Mine’s the beef,’ Matt said.

The moment had passed and so Matt and Aimee made small talk as they ate. Matt intended to continue where they left off after dinner but when he returned from a post-dinner bathroom trip, he saw Aimee’s head sandwiching a pillow to the window. He would never disturb someone who could actually manage to get sleep in one of these tin cans, so he popped his headphones on and resolved to finding out more in the morning.

Relaxing in his seat and staring at, but not seeing, the images moving past on the little screen in front of him, Matt wondered what he had got himself into. Clearly, Aimee and other historians in New Zealand didn’t give much credit to the theory of Celts being the first inhabitants of New Zealand, yet here he was going there to study it. Matt wasn’t sure if he might be setting himself up for an embarrassing fall. He knew of other academics
who
had made the mistake of supporting unpopular theories and didn’t want to suffer the same fate as they had. Conversely, he may also be able to prove something here. What Aimee didn’t know is that Warren had found tangible evidence of the Celts having been in New Zealand. At least that’s what Warren had said on the phone and Matt knew with certainty Warren was genuine. It would be an interesting, if not exciting, few weeks.