Warren Rennie had dirt embedded under his nails again. It wasn’t a new sensation for him, far from it, nevertheless it was a sensation he didn’t enjoy. It came with the job though, not that you could call it a job — archaeology was only a hobby for Warren because he wasn’t the university type. Unfortunately, this meant he was not a qualified archaeologist, which in turn meant he was a hack, a wannabee, at least in the eyes of the people who could make a difference. No, Warren would likely never be taken seriously. He was a committed amateur, nothing more.
He had excavated this farm-site near to one of his best friend’s holiday retreats ever since he gained permission from the landowner. Warren had taken great care in calculating the location of this dig based upon alignments he had identified in standing stones in the area. In his mind, exactly on this spot — well, within a two or three metre radius — he would find something that would make people stand up and take notice. Some artefact that proved Celts had inhabited New Zealand before the Maori.
It was not an uncommon theory in some circles, but it was despised in most. Academia of New Zealand would never accept what he and his colleagues suggested, and certainly the government had no interest in such ramblings of madmen. But the existence of megalithic stone alignments in this region left no doubt in the minds of Warren and a handful of other amateur researchers that the Celts had been here. All he and his co-theorists needed was some concrete evidence and the backing of a real archaeologist. All they needed was…
Wait a second, that looks interesting.
Warren stole a look around himself before continuing. He knew all too well that the authorities, the Department of Cultural Identity, were aware of his movements and his work. He was certain he was being watched by them and knew he needed to be very careful if he actually found something as interesting as… what was in front of him.
Feeling wary, Warren carefully used his hand brush to dust away the last of the sands around the object that emerged piece by piece in the hollow. In the dirt he found two small coins. They were embossed on one side with a horse. The reverse featured the moon-god. But these were insignificant in comparison to the prize object that sat with them. This was exactly the sort of proof Warren had searched for. It was a thing of beauty. A bronze mirror, the size of a dinner plate, adorned with a pattern of swirls and loops on its reverse.
With gentle hands, Warren lifted the mirror from the soil and stared at it. A mirror like this, buried with two coins, was a powerful suggestion that the site where Warren crouched was a burial site, a Celtic burial site. He realised more objects were probably buried within the area. But that would have to wait, he would have to be shrewd and act fast for this find to prove his theory of a Celtic discovery of New Zealand.
With precise movements, Warren placed the two coins into a little cloth pouch and replaced the dirt where the mirror had been. He brushed the dirt around so it was no longer obvious something bigger than the coins had laid there. Then, without hesitation, Warren wrapped the mirror into some cloth, stashed it in his bag, and took off over the farm as quick as his feet would carry him.
Behind a line of Macrocarpa trees, on the other side of the same field, Warren crouched down and built up dirt under his nails once more. When he was satisfied with the depth of his hole, he removed the mirror from his bag, unravelled the cloth, and buried it. He returned the dirt to its original place to cover his traces, and brushed away the tell-tale signs of digging. Warren smiled at his completed work. He noted his location, and strolled back to his dig site. Now Warren had to make two phone calls. The first one would be to the Department of Cultural Identity, to report he had found two coins at his dig site, as was required by law. The second phone call would be much more pleasurable. Warren had anticipated making it for ten long years.