The Spanish Helmet (23 page)

‘I’m so sorry,’ he blurted. ‘I got carried away in the moment.’

‘It’s OK, Matt. I understand. What’s in the book?’

Matt opened the book again and summarised what he read as he flicked from page to page. Much of the content was notes about documents his father had sourced, or theories and what he made of them. But there was one section that was thoroughly interesting. Matt read it out to Aimee.

‘I have finally identified the operator of the dredge that found the Spanish Helmet in the Wellington Harbour in 1879. He is long since dead; however I have been able to trace his family to his Granddaughter who still lives in the suburbs of Wellington. I have contacted her and she has invited me to come and visit her as soon as I have the opportunity. She says she may have interesting information for me.’

‘Wow!’ Aimee said. ‘Did he visit? What did she tell him?’

‘Wait a moment, I need to flick forward here,’ Matt said, flipping over pages until he found what he was looking for.

‘Here we go... have visited Miss Ruth Borlase in Wellington. Amazing news, her grandfather didn’t just find the Spanish Helmet; he also found a sword and some other armour. He provided half of his find to the Museum of New Zealand, but he kept the sword and some of the artefacts for himself. I saw the sword!
Definitely Spanish!’

‘This is incredible,’ Aimee said.

‘It goes on... Mr. Borlase was furious when the museum claimed they didn’t know the exact details of the helmet, since he had been present when it was catalogued into their collections. He claimed cover-up and swore to keep his relics hidden, only to reveal them when the time was right, when people would listen. His granddaughter hopes that the time is now.’

‘Does this get us any closer to finding out where the helmet came from? Where is the sword now? Is there anything else written there?’ Aimee rolled out a series of rapid-fire questions.

‘The information about the visit with Miss Borlase ends there,’ Matt answered, flicking further through the notebook. It was only on the last page that he saw the information that would lead them to the next step.

‘Matt.’ Matt read aloud from the diary. ‘If you are reading this you will know how important the information I have is. You will also know that it needs to be hidden until the time is right. The time is now right. You hold the key to my favourite place. Find it.’

‘The other key your Dad gave you.’

‘Yeah, but what does it unlock.’

‘You hold the key to my favourite place...’ Aimee repeated the words.

Matt didn’t hear her; he was in a
trance, that
same line echoed in his head. He glanced up at the photograph on the wall.
Matthew, the little three-year-old boy, standing in front of the little lighthouse on St. Mary’s.

‘Oh my God.
It’s there,’ Matt said, pointing to the photo.

‘What?
On that island?’

‘No.’ Matt stood up and reached out to take the picture off the wall. It concealed a small wooden cupboard. Matt took the key from his pocket and placed it in the keyhole. It turned with a click and the door eased open. He looked at Aimee. She smiled at him.

‘Your father’s favourite place was his memory of you,’ she said.

Matt held back the tears which he fought with his blinking eyes. Through the slight blurring, he could see another red notebook, identical to the one they already found. He took it from the cupboard.

‘I guess this is what we’re looking for,’ he said.

They sat at the desk and read the contents of the notebook together. When they were finished, Matt closed it and looked at Aimee. A grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

‘Are you up for a trip to this Otago place?’

‘Of course I am!’ Aimee answered. ‘I can’t think of anything more exciting. It sounds great, and I’ve got colleagues at the University of Otago.’

‘That might be a good place to start,’ Matt said. ‘If anyone should know about the local Maori, then it should be the local university history department. I knew I brought you for a reason.’ Matt paused. He didn’t want to look dumb, but he had to ask. ‘Where is Otago anyway?’

They locked the shed and said their goodbyes to Muriel.

‘Found what you were looking for then?’ She asked.

‘Sure did,’ Matt answered. ‘Thanks.’

His father’s notes had been very thorough. They explained how he had seen the sword that was found by Mr. Borlase along with the helmet in Wellington Harbour. He was intrigued by the Maori pattern that appeared to have been meticulously embossed into the blade of a distinctly Spanish weapon. Upon further investigation into the pattern, it was determined that this belonged to the style of a Maori in the Otago region. He had intended to continue on with his investigations by travelling to Otago and seeking out more information about the pattern and to research oral histories of white people visiting. He though some local elders might be able to help. That was the last of his notes.

Matt took his phone off the charger and selected Nadine’s number from his phonebook. He couldn’t wait to tell her the great news. He was sure that his father would be excited for them.

‘God, I hope I can get through this time,’ he said, turning to Aimee, who sat at the table looking through page upon page of archived journal articles. She nodded, clearly absorbed by her reading.

He smiled at her profile and pressed the call button. It rang for quite a while.

‘Hello?’
Came
an unsure sounding voice.

‘Nadine, fantastic, I’ve been trying to reach you.’ It was great to hear her voice.

Silence.

‘Nadine?’

A sniff, then the heart-wrenching sounds of a woman bursting into tears. Matt knew instantly something was seriously wrong. He tipped his way down to the edge of the couch, took up residence next to a cushion and waited. He saw that Aimee had looked up from her papers to see why he had gone quiet. She didn’t look away.

‘I’m sorry Matt.’ Nadine finally managed to utter between her gasps for breath. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘What is it?’ Matt asked, fearing and expecting the worst.

‘You only just got to know him.’ Nadine sobbed again.

‘Dad?’
Really expecting the worst now.
Aimee got up from the table and came over next to Matt.

‘He’s gone, in his sleep the night before last.’

‘He’s... dead?’
The worst it is.
He felt something touching his knee and realised that it was Aimee’s hand.

‘They said it was peaceful. He was given extra morphine for his pain. His body couldn’t cope with it. I’m
sorry,
I completely forgot you were here...’

Matt felt the sensation of bile rising in his throat and heat rushed into his head.

‘I’ve been trying to call. I can’t believe it, even after... are you alright?’

‘I’ve got friends here, I’ll be OK. It’s almost a relief for me, after so many years of him in pain. But you only just got to know him.’

The world span around Matt and was on the edge of losing control.
From a massive high to the lowest of lows in but a few seconds.
He was supposed to be calling to tell Nadine to look out for his Dad, and his exciting news. Instead, she was breaking her terrible news. He really felt for her right now. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he hadn’t yet had the chance to develop a full relationship with his father.
But Nadine.
This must be torture for her.

‘I’m just happy to have had a chance to meet him,’ Matt said. ‘And having done so, I’m going to make sure that I complete his work down here. I’m going to find the answers he was looking for and see that he gets the respect he deserves for his contribution to New Zealand.’

Aimee smiled at him. Her hand on his knee brought Matt an amount of comfort that she was probably unaware of. It also helped to hold down the anger that twitched through his legs. He forced a smile back.

‘Have you had any luck?’ Nadine asked.

‘We have. In fact, I was calling to tell you we have some good leads and are going to head to Dunedin to follow up on them. I thought Dad might want to know.’

‘He would have loved to have known. He was so excited that you were here.
So happy that you would continue his work.
He talked about nothing else the last few days.’

The anger twitched beyond Aimee’s hand. As it rose through his gut it evolved into a wave of determination. Thankfully it escaped his mouth in that latter form.

‘Then we’ll continue in his honour.’

‘That would be great, Matt.’

‘But first I’ll come back for his funeral.’

‘No, don’t worry about it. We’ll have a tiny service, probably only a handful of folk. You don’t need to come out of the way. He would have wanted you to go on with the investigation down there.’

Matt felt guilty, but he understood what Nadine was saying.

‘Alright, we’ll do just that,’ he said. ‘Look after yourself. I’ll get in touch again when we have more information.’

Matt hung up the phone and looked at Aimee. She sat, looking back at him with a comforting expression on her face.
Not smiling, not frowning, not angry, or even sad.
Just an expression that made Matt
feel
at ease. He needed that. Everything was so confusing.
Meeting your estranged father after thirty years, and then losing him again a week later.
The whole situation was beyond bizarre. Questions whirled around Matt’s head. Why did he have to die now? What sort of luck did this family have? How on earth did Matt end up in the south island of New Zealand investigating a pseudo-history that his father had worked on? Was Hemi right? Was his father murdered?

‘I don’t know what to do...’ He pondered out loud.

‘Just do what you do best, Matt.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Absorb yourself in your work. Find the answers to your father’s questions. You can respect him that way.’

‘How come you know me so well?’ Matt asked her, pleased that she was able to understand his misgivings.

‘Don’t know,’ Aimee said, looking down briefly. ‘Fate, I guess.’ 

Wednesday, November 10, 1526

After coasting the cape which housed the large volcano we had sighted, we sailed south-east and then south-west again, for about thirty-five leagues each stretch. What appeared to be another large bay, which I expected to sail north-west away from, turned out to be the entrance to some straits. The weather here was not in our favour, so although we could see a welcoming-looking harbour on the northern land-mass, we did not make an attempt to enter it. Instead, I put out to sea on the eastern side of the straits and we slowly drifted south-east along the coast of the southern land-mass. We are now about ten leagues from the entrance to the straits. I have decided to continue on south along this coast now. This land has, so far, offered plenty of opportunity for anchorage and safe harbour, so I do not doubt we will find more soon. I have named the land Gálatas Nueva, because it reminds me so of Galicia, from where we departed.