Free Constable Through the Meadow by Nicholas Rhea Page B

running my fingers through the pile of ancient money. The coins, most of which appeared to be of silver and from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, tinkled and rattled back on to the tray, and there seemed to be thousands of them. Upon some of them, I recognised names like Carolus I, Jacobus, Elizabeth, Edward VI and Carolus II. So they were from the reigns of Charles I and II, James I, Elizabeth I and Edward VI. I believe at least one was from the reign of Henry VIII.
    ‘Wonderful!’ I beamed. ‘Absolutely wonderful.’
    ‘Are they worth owt, Mr Rhea?’
    ‘They must be,’ I said, ‘but I’m no expert.’
    ‘Can I sell ’em? We could do wiv a bit o’ cash.’
    ‘I’m afraid not, Reg. But you could still get money from thefind, although it’ll take time,’ and I told them about the procedure relating to treasure trove. Ted showed me where he had ploughed them up and I noted the place, then took a formal statement from him.
    Next, we counted the coins. It took a long time because there were almost 2,000, and I had the unpleasant task of taking them away from the Lumleys in a large sack. I gave a receipt for 1,985 coins. I explained they would have to be examined by experts to determine whether or not they were silver or even gold. The Lumleys probably thought it was the last they’d see of them, knowing they were now subjected to red tape and officialdom.
    As expected, the coroner declared them treasure trove which meant they were handed to the British Museum, and they would make their customary valuation based upon the prevailing marked prices. It was some months later when I got a telephone call from Reg.
    ‘Can thoo come, Mr Rhea. I’ve summat to show you.’
    ‘Not another batch of coins, Reg?’
    ‘Nay, summat else,’ his voice contained an air of mystery. ‘Thoo’ll like this.’
    ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes,’ I said, curious to learn about his latest discovery.
    This time, there was a whopping glass of whisky on the kitchen table when I arrived and the family sat around with huge grins on their faces. Even Mrs Lumley was smiling.
    Reg made sure I was settled and insisted I drink the whisky, even though I was in uniform. I didn’t like to offend by refusing ! After this performance, I was handed a letter. It was still in the official buff envelope which had been opened, but it bore the logo of the British Museum.
    ‘Tak a leeak at yon, Mr Rhea,’ invited Reg.
    I did. I read the formal letter and was astounded. It itemised every single coin and identified them by year, reign and designation , and an individual valuation had also been added. The letter said that the total official value of the hoard of coins found at West Gill Farm, Aidensfield was £47,884 and a cheque for that amount was enclosed.
    I held the cheque … I’d never seen, let alone held, such a huge amount of money.
    ‘Whew!’ was all I could say.
    ‘That caps owt, Mr Rhea,’ said Reg. ‘That really caps owt.’
    ‘It does, Reg. It really does cap owt. And I’m delighted for you all.’
    Mrs Lumley, a woman of few words and a severe hair-do, just smiled again.
    ‘Nay, it’s thanks to thoo,’ said Reg. ‘I read summat in t’ Gazette aboot thoo and another inquest on summat found at Elsinby, so thowt I’d better tell thoo. If thoo hadn’t said what we had ti deea wiv ’em, Ah might have stuck ’em in t’loft and said nowt. I mean, thoo can’t spend ’em, so in my mind they were worth nowt.’
    That was a typical Yorkshire attitude, and he continued,
    ‘Ah mean to say, who’d have thowt they were worth all this? So we’ll have a party, Mr Rhea. Your missus’ll come, eh?’
    ‘We’ll be delighted,’ I said, and I meant it.
    ‘It’ll be soon,’ he said. ‘I’ll ring wi’ t’date.’
    ‘Don’t spend it all on a party!’ I cautioned him with a laugh. ‘Make the money work for you!’
    ‘Ah shall, Mr Rhea. Starting next week, me and Ted’ll be off to a few cattle marts. There’s a few