Greg Scowen: The Spanish Helmet

‘So, I thought perhaps I could head home and have a look at the archives there to see if I can’t find something concrete,’ Julia said, drawing Matt’s attention back to the conversation.

‘Sure, that makes sense. When will you go?’

‘Not till the summer break.’

Julia continued to explain her ideas.

The home Julia referred to was not the one up north. She had lived more than half her life in Spain. A consequence of this was that Julia was schooled in an exclusive private school that shared campuses between Spain and England. This made her fluent in Spanish. It also made her fluent in Matt-speak, as it had become known around the department. He too had been schooled in an elite private school, though he didn’t come from money like Julia. His schooling had been paid for through a trust fund that a generous family friend had set up.

Reality interrupted his thoughts and Julia’s rhetoric in the form of the sharp ringing of the telephone.

‘I’m positive I asked for my calls to be fielded. How are we supposed to get any work done? Hold on a sec.’

‘Hello?’ Matt broke a department rule and answered the phone without announcing his name.

The voice at the other end of the line was not immediately recognisable. ‘Matthew… is that you?’

Matt hesitated. ‘Yes, this is Dr. Cameron, Matthew Cameron.’

‘Matthew, it’s me. Warren.’

‘Warren?’ Matthew straightened. Warren’s voice sounded different. A little shrill, almost childlike.

It wasn’t like him to lose his composure. He usually called on Friday evenings, not on a Tuesday morning. Matthew frowned.

‘Warren, how are you? What’s going on? It’s late evening there, what are you doing calling at this time of day? Are you alright?’

‘Don’t panic, everything’s fine, more than fine, it’s good as gold. Matt, it’s finally happened!’

‘What’s happened?’ Matt asked. He stole a glance at Julia who twirled a finger in her light brown hair and tried to look like she wasn’t listening.

‘I’ve found evidence, Matt. I finally have proof the damned government can’t deny. No specifics on the phone but it’s Celtic. You know what I mean. It’s brilliant, but I need your help. I need you to come and confirm my findings. I need an archaeologist or historian, someone qualified. You’re all of these. Will you come?’

Matt was perplexed. ‘To New Zealand? Why me, why not a local archaeologist?’

‘You know why, Matt. We’ve been through this.’

Matt did know why. Warren had explained it many times before. Warren had a theory that Celts discovered New Zealand long before the Maori. Apparently, such wild thoughts were taboo in New Zealand and no academic interested in their reputation would have anything to do with it. Unless it was to negate the theory, that is.

‘Is there really no one there who could do it?’

‘If I approach anyone here with this, the government and the Maori will step in and destroy my evidence. I can’t take that risk. Without the documented evidence of a qualified archaeologist or historian, New Zealanders will always live in the shadow of the lies they’re being taught in history classrooms. I need you to come and qualify that evidence before it can be destroyed, and to help me show that further sites confirm what I’ve found. I know I’m asking a lot, but you can come, can’t you? You could take some sabbatical perhaps.’

Matt was stunned. Warren was asking a lot, God, he talked so fast and had so much to say that Matt struggled to keep up. At the same time though, Warren presented Matt with an awesome opportunity, the chance to become famous for changing a piece of taught history. On the other hand, it was a chance to make a complete fool out of himself if it all turned out to be nothing of real substance. Matt was torn. He could take a sabbatical and the semester break was approaching so he could spare a few weeks on all fronts.

‘Are you there?’

‘I’m here, Warren, you’ve just taken me a little by surprise.’ As Matt looked across at Julia he noticed she no longer feigned disinterest and was clearly wondering what was going on.

‘It could give you a chance to find your father.’

Matt felt a fist plunge through his chest and take a hold of his heart. He hadn’t seen his father since he was four years old. Matt knew that Warren was familiar with the situation, so when Warren now suggested Matt could use this opportunity to try and track down his father, he knew Warren was playing his trump card. This obviously meant a lot to him, and come to think of it, Matt relished the idea of finding his father just to give him a piece of his mind, finally.

‘OK,’ Matt answered, after his thoughtful pause, ‘I’ll come to New Zealand.’

Julia raised her eyebrows.

‘But I can’t come until after Friday, I’ve got to give an important lecture. It’s the end of the semester and the final lecture of my third-year paper is open to the public, it’s kind of a big deal.’

‘No problem,’ said Warren his voice unable to hide the excitement, ‘I’ll arrange a flight for you for Saturday and have the tickets sent to your e-mail.’ There was a pause. ‘This is the chance of a lifetime. Have a good flight, and try to sleep on the plane, it’s a long way and the time zones get real messy during your twenty-four hours in the air.’

‘Will do Warren, thanks.’

‘And Matt — be careful who you talk to. Don’t tell anyone you can’t explicitly trust about this. I know the government is watching me and will cause problems if they find out about what I’ve found. I haven’t told them everything. Just… trust no one. OK?’

‘Mum’s the word.’

‘See you later.’

Matt hung up the receiver and sat back in his chair, realising he had been edging forwards for the last few minutes.

‘What was that all about?’ Julia asked, her face full of expectation.

Matt wanted to talk. He knew he had to explain the situation to Julia, to someone. He could explicitly trust her, she was his closest friend. They had met on their first day of university and had worked through their Bachelors and Masters together. They only parted ways when he did his Doctorate in Switzerland, and she hers in Spain. It was only natural that they had looked for work together too. They had found it at the University of South-West England.

‘That was Warren, an old family friend. He and my mum were close after my father left, when I was a boy. He’s a hobby archaeologist if you like… not trained, but certainly thorough and committed to his work all the same.’

‘Oh, is he the one who got you interested in your study? You’ve told me about him.’

‘Exactly. Got me interested and paid for my bachelor degree.’

Matt looked at his bookshelf and considered the impact Warren had made on his life. Warren had looked out for Matt and his mother. He was always involved in some get-rich-quick scheme or another and occasionally had a little success. Eventually, he took off to New Zealand on some adventure. Unlike Matt’s father, though, Warren had kept in touch and told him all about his adventures. Matt looked up to him like a father and had been very proud when he told Warren he would study archaeology.

‘Anyway, Warren believes that New Zealand was settled by someone other than the Maori,’ Matt said, ‘his particular studies follow the theory that the Celts discovered New Zealand some thousands of years ago. He’s struggled to find evidence to support his theory and believes the government is out to stop him, but now he thinks he has something and wants me to go and look.’