The Spanish Helmet (17 page)

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We do indeed.’

The countryside scrolled by the car windows at a comfortable 100km per hour. Aimee had busied herself studying a map, attempting to find their way to the site of the Crosshouse of Miringa Te Kakara. Now she was trying to explain what it was about the Crosshouse that should be interesting to them. Warren, upon hearing of their visit to the site, had been kind enough to supply Matt with a website printout that provided information of the theories of the house. More than could be comfortably consumed it seemed. Aimee held out a diagram briefly so that Matt could take a glance. She paraphrased some of the description of the house.

‘Two wings actually lay along the observable rise-and-set line of the winter solstice sunrise and summer solstice sunset at 60-degrees and 240-degrees respectively. The other two wings lie, therefore, at azimuths of 150-degrees and 330-degrees.’

‘That would be hard to fluke. When was it built?’

‘Wait a sec.’ Shuffling of paper from his left.
‘Oh. No-one’s sure, but they reckon it was completed about 1865. Bishop Thomas Herangi, guardian of the Crosshouse up until the 1980’s, cited evidence of the star temple having been built in 1682, with renovations occurring in 1788 and 1887.’

‘Uhuh.’

‘Bugger.’
Aimee changed the subject. ‘This is Atiamuri junction. We’ve gotta turn left here and soon we turn back on 30 again, to Benneydale.’

‘Got it,’ Matt said, turning left at the T-junction they had just arrived at.

 ‘It’s probable,’ she switched back without pause, ‘that the winter solstice sunrise and the summer solstice sunset were observed from the centre pole or secondary poles through the open doorways. It’s also highly likely that the northern-most lunar standstill rise and the southern-most lunar standstill set could be observed through the elevated windows, with the observer seated to the front or side of the centre pole.’

‘That’s getting complex,’ Matt said.

 ‘The Crosshouse was described as a place for conducting the rites as in old times. The mathematical attributes of the Crosshouse show us very clearly what many of those
rites
were. Maths also shows how these traditions replicate the astronomical and navigational knowledge of the great civilisations of the Northern Hemisphere. The knowledge coded into the Crosshouse at Miringa Te Kakara has a direct pedigree back to Egypt, Great Britain and North America.’

‘It’ll be interesting to see if my compass can confirm any of that. I wonder where the Maori folk that built this house got such knowledge. Did they stumble upon the same lunar charting as other great civilizations by chance?’

‘You mean like what Jung called
the collective unconscious
?’

‘Exactly.’

Twenty-five minutes later, they left the car at a farmhouse near the settlement of Tiroa and made their way on foot to the remains of the Crosshouse. There was really nothing left except for the clear footprint of the building. Matt pulled out his pocket GPS receiver and set it to compass mode.

‘The website is right, you know, the axis of this wing is directly along the solstice. That is really interesting.’ Matt stared at the figures on his screen.

‘The website goes on to dissect the dimensions of the building in excruciating details, Matt. Do you want to see them?’

‘I have to admit I’m intrigued, but what does it all prove? We can only speculate where the knowledge to build this came from. Even the website agrees that these sorts of measurements were used by a multitude of civilisations.’

‘They apparently have a lot of correlations with the measurements made in Rennes-le-Chateau,’ Aimee added.

‘That’s more Warren’s sort of thing. Fascinating as it is, I don’t know enough to go much beyond being curious. It would be damned interesting to have some real research done here though. I wonder if that DCI mob would ever let it happen.’

‘I don’t think the DCI would have anything against looking into this,’ Aimee said. ‘They probably just don’t have the time or resources to follow up every theory touted online.’

‘Fair enough too.’
Matt agreed. ‘I don’t have the time or resources either. You need a lot of equipment and specialists in all sorts of fields to get to the bottom of this. If the DCI can’t manage it, then I’m far from being the right man for the job. Shall we go then?’

‘Yes. I’ve seen enough.
Much more interested in getting to the bottom of the Spanish stuff anyway.’

Back at the car, Matt suggested that they best find somewhere for the night. It was getting on in the afternoon and he didn’t want to wear anyone out. Besides, they were still a solid number of
hours
drive from Wellington because they weren’t on the main road.

‘Go back to the direction of Te Kuiti,’ Aimee said. ‘I know a place a couple hours south of here. I think you might like it.’

Aimee was right. As Matt manoeuvred the car out of the forest and saw the
Grand Chateau
hotel emerge in front of him, he immediately approved of her choice. The hotel was a commanding structure resting up on the hillside in front of them. To their left lay a sweeping golf course. Behind the hotel was a smattering of more forests, towered over by a beautiful
mountainscape
. You didn’t get scenery like this in the UK.

Matt parked the car and walked up the drive to the hotel entrance with his suitcase and Aimee in tow. His eyes were fixed on a volcanic cone in the distance.

‘That mountain looks so familiar,’ he said.

‘Mt Ngauruhoe.’ Aimee smiled at him. ‘But you might know it as Mt. Doom of
Lord of the Rings
.’

That was it, of course. Matt was almost embarrassed to have recognised it. He hoped that Aimee didn’t think he was a hopeless geek.

‘And that one behind the hotel is Ruapehu. It erupted a bit back in 1996 and practically destroyed the ski season up there at Whakapapa.’

‘Fuck a what?’ Matt asked.

‘
Whak
-a-papa.’
Aimee drew it out, causing Matt to cringe and Aimee to giggle. ‘It’s spelt W-H-A-K at the beginning, just like Whakatane. The Maori pronunciation is like... fuck. So yes, it sounds like fuck a papa.’

‘These Maori place names keep getting more offensive,’ Matt said. He hoped his smile would show Aimee he was teasing.

They checked in at the hotel in two separate rooms and walked through an awkward void of words to the stairs in the lobby. Aimee broke the silence.

‘Shall we meet for dinner?’ she asked.

‘Would love to,’ Matt said. ‘See you back here in an hour?

It was agreed. Matt and Aimee climbed the stairs to their respective adjoining rooms. Matt discovered his suitcase already laid out on a little stand in the room. He grabbed some fresh clothes and took a white towel off the bed and made for the shower. He was out to make a good impression.

  * * *

It had been a long day, and the last thing Hemi was worried about as he flopped down on the cheap motel room bed, was the insects flying and crawling around the room. He even dismissed the orange curtains and dingy old bed-spread.
Who has polyester bed-spreads these days?
It was a wonder a dump like this could do business.

Hemi’s business of the day had been more monotonous following and watching. He had watched them leave the Kingsbridge residence. He had followed them through the country-side. As he put his hometown and the memories further and further behind him, he realised he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on Warren Rennie anymore. But he could deal with him later. He thought it would get interesting when they pulled off onto some small country roads but he didn’t see the attraction of the farm where they stopped, despite their incessant babbling about the old Whare Wananga. Hemi put in a call to Warren.

‘I’m in the North Manuatu, on a farm where there used to be some old Maori School. I thought we were worried about these folk looking into the wrong kind of history. But I don’t see how this can be threatening.’

‘Are you just off state highway 30 by chance?’

‘Yeah.
How’d you know?’

‘That’s the site of the Crosshouse of Miringa Te Kakara. It’s a site sometimes discussed by Celtic theorists because the building displayed indications of having been influenced by the heavens.
Solar and lunar rises, and all that.’

‘But there’s nothing here.’

‘It was burned down in the Eighties.’

‘So not much of a threat then.’

‘Not at all.
I sent them there, it’s Celtic. But it can’t have taken you two days to get there. Where else have you been?’

Hemi had already planned a story for this.

‘They stopped for a night at Taupo. They went and had a look at some sights there too.’

‘The Kaimanawa Wall?’

‘Yeah,’ Hemi said. He knew that this would please Warren. The Kaimanawa Wall was a collection of stones that appeared to be a man-made wall dating back thousands of years, at least if you were into those sorts of crazy theories.

‘That’s great,’ Warren said, bringing a smile to Hemi’s face. ‘Matt will see the potential of the wall being from the Celts too.’

‘Maybe, yeah.’

‘
Which might just stop him from wasting his time going to Wellington.
’

‘I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure they’re heading there in the morning.’

‘You know what you’ve got to do then.’

‘What?’

‘Stop them.
If not before they get to Wellington, at least do something to scare them off the Spanish trail once they get there.
Give them a fright somehow.’

‘I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got to go. They’re coming back my way.’

Hemi had hung up the phone before he got any angrier.

As the trip left the Crosshouse, Hemi had followed them to the
Grand Chateau
hotel. He admired Aimee from a distance as they entered the hotel. Perhaps a girl like her could persuade him to rethink the single life.
Snap out of it Hemi
, he thought.
She’s probably changed a lot. You aren’t a schoolboy any more.

Before driving back down the mountain in search of some lower budget accommodation, Hemi took a drive up to the ski resort at Whakapapa. If he was in the area, he might as well have a look around. Not a lot to see though. In summer everything was well locked up and there was no one about. He had turned back down the mountain and driven past the
Grand Chateau
, settling for a cheap motel nearby, to wait. Hemi always waited, and waiting was what he was doing now. He set his mobile phone alarm for six in the morning. The early bird catches the worm, that’s what his father said. He closed his eyes and let his back sink into the soft bed. A spring prodded at his back as he imagined what it was like for his ancestors, sitting in a Whare Wananga, and learning of things that have since been lost. As he sank deeper into his imaginings, he sank deep into a much-needed sleep.

Matt walked in circles around the huge billiards table. Pacing calmed his nerves. Or maybe not, but it gave him something to do. He was early. It was difficult to know whether he was better off being early or making a big entrance. But to make a big entrance you had to be late, and that didn’t look good, did it? In Switzerland, when he studied there, he learnt to never be late. The Swiss are very particular about punctuality. When the train didn’t arrive on time, people started tapping their watches. Surely their watch was broken; the trains always ran on time. Aimee descended the staircase on time too.
Sublime.
Matt couldn’t take his eyes off her. She floated lower and
lower
as if her feet weren’t even touching the ground. Matt couldn’t find a breath. He hadn’t seen her in a dress before.