One day many, many years ago...
It was a good place. It overlooked a valley to the west and Leominster in the distance to the south-west. Its elevated position amid gently rolling hills meant that either by day or moon-lit night there was a chance of seeing if anyone was watching.
He was standing at a quiet crossroads near a spring. He would be sure to remember it when he returned, even were it to be months from now.
He eased the looted coins, jewellery and bullion into the hole he had dug in the ground then covered it with earth. He took a last look around to assure himself that no one had seen him work. Then he turned his back on his treasure and left. He never saw it again.
The man that day in 878 had been of some standing, a chieftain perhaps. Most likely he was part of what later became known at the Great Army of Scandinavian raiders who had been sporadically raiding across the kingdoms of Saxon England for more than 10 years.
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We do not know why he buried his treasure in that spot near Leominster, though in the ages before banks it was a common enough way for people to keep their wealth safe. We do not know his name, age or who he had robbed, and possibly killed, to enrich himself (we cannot, in fact, even be sure he was alone; he may have been accompanied by trusted comrades).
But other clues about this man and his intriguing story that we might have deciphered, but they were lost, probably forever, one June day more than 1,100 years later.
The detectorists
George Powell, a warehouseman, and Layton Davies, a school caretaker, had been detectorists for some time.
There were among an estimated 20,000 in Britain who walk the countryside scanning the ground for lost trinkets or metal antiquities with hobby equipment originally developed to find landmines in the Second World War.
The pastime was portrayed with gentle humour and considerable insight in the acclaimed BBC television series Detectorists, which ran from 2014 to 2017. Ironically, one of its storylines played on the antipathy most detectorists have for so-called ‘nighthawks’ – those who find and remove antiquities from the ground without the permission of landowner and without informing the authorities.
On June 2, 2015, Powell and Davies had driven from their homes in south Wales to see what they could find on an area of land known as King’s Hall Hill at Eye, near Leominster. During their search, a beeping sound on a detector alerted them to something of significance. They started digging and soon uncovered the detectorist community’s holy grail – buried treasure.
It is not difficult to imagine the pair’s excitement. Davies – in an act he would later regret – wanted a reminder of the moment. So, he took a picture on his mobile phone of the hoard in the freshly dug hole. It included dozens of ancient coins, a gold serpent's-head arm bangle and "showpiece" gold ring together wish an even older crystal pendant intricately chased in gold, probably of Frankish origin.
The men continued digging and left with their booty. Had they left it in the ground and reported the discovery as they should have done archaeologists could have retrieved it more carefully, learning as much about its story from tell-tale clues in the soil around it as from the items themselves.
As experienced detectorists Powell and Davies and would have been familiar with the Treasure Act, the law which says finds like theirs should be declared. It ensures that discoveries that are an important part of our shared heritage can be acquired by museums for the benefit of everyone, rather than being quietly sold on the black market. The finders are rewarded with a substantial share of their find’s value, as is the landowner.
But Powell and Davies wanted more. The began casting around for collectors willing to buy from them.
Before long word that some detectorists had made an interesting find reached Peter Reavill. He is Herefordshire’s finds liaison officer, and his job is to record small finds of archaeological interest uncovered by members of the public. He contacted Powell and Davies after finding their email addresses through a detectorist society. But his suspicions were aroused by their response, and he called in West Mercia Police.
A key piece of evidence in their investigation was found on Davies’s phone. A forensic examination had revealed deleted pictures of coins and shining objects being taken from the ground.
In November 2019 Powell and Davies were convicted at Worcester Crown Court of failing to declare the hoard. Powell was jailed for 10 years while Davies got eight-and-a-half. Two other men, Paul Wells and Simon Wicks, were convicted of conspiring to conceal the find.
The value of the complete hoard is estimated at up to £12 million. The gold ring, a gold serpent-head armlet, crystal-and-gold pendant, silver ingot and 31 coins have been recovered. Their estimated value is £776,000. But 90 per cent of the treasure is still missing, having possibly been sold on the black market.
At the trial, Powell’s barrister James Tucker told the judge his client “isn’t in a position to assist” in their recovery.
“It is clear from his point view that he wishes he had never found the treasure. It became a temptation – and for him a curse.”
In sentencing the detectorists, Judge Nicholas Cartwright condemned the greed and foolishness that had cost them their freedom.
He said: “The irony in this case is if you, George Powell, and you, Layton James, had obtained the permissions and agreements which responsible detectorists are advised to obtain; if you had gone on to act within the law after you found this treasure you could have expected to have either a half share, or at very worst a third share. You could not have done worse than £500,000 each. But you wanted more.”
Treasure hunters thinking of returning to King's Hall Hill would be wasting their time. A Herefordshire Council archaeology officer has since thoroughly surveyed the site and there are no further items of interest there.
He did, though, with the help of aerial photographs, pinpoint the spot where the hoard had been buried, and which the detectorists had refused to reveal. It was an area of wet land near where a spring flows. Nearby, two ancient tracks crossed and perhaps had done since Saxon days. We cannot know for sure, but is is possible that this quiet crossroads was a memorable enough landmark to persuade a Viking that this was a very good hiding place.
Turbulent times
The Herefordshire Hoard marks a tumultuous period in English history.
The country then comprised four separate Anglo-Saxon kingdoms – Wessex, Mercia, East Anglia and Northumbria.
They were peopled by primitive farmers with no organised central government or efficient army, and they were ill-prepared to repel attacks that were about to come from ferocious Scandinavian pirates – the Vikings.
Their raids grew in intensity and frequency until by 865 they had become a full-blown invasion and a huge force later described as the Great Viking Army arrived.
The warriors overwintered in East Anglia before spending several years campaigning through the four Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. The period was vividly depicted in the Netflix dramas Vikings and The Last Kingdom.
The English fightback was led by Alfred, the young king of Wessex. He defeated the Great Army at the Battle of Edington in what is now Wiltshire, laying the foundations of a united England under his grandson King Athelstan in 927.
It was between the summer of 878 and the autumn of 879, when the Vikings were in a long retreat from their rout at Edington, that the hoard was buried.
Although there is no evidence that that the Vikings were at Leominster monastery at this time, it is just the sort of place the raiders would have targeted during their retreat, and may go some way to explaining the presence 1,100 years ago of a man with illicit riches to hide on King’s Hall Hill.
Speaking shortly after the conviction of Powell and Davies, Dr Gareth Williams, curator of early medieval coinage at the British Museum, described the hoard the men found as of national importance, and said its loss was a “theft of the country’s past”.
Perhaps the most significant of the items that were recovered were five very rare Two Emperor pennies that suggest an alliance between Alfred and Ceonwulf II, who was the last King of Mercia. The head of both men is on the coins, and they are worth up to £50,000 apiece.
Dr Williams said this showed that the little-known Ceonwulf II was in an alliance with Alfred – an alliance that may have played a pivotal role in the defeat of the Vikings and the formation of a united England.
He remains frustrated that further clues the hoard may have offered about our country’s past have been lost.
"The difficulty is we don't have all of it and therefore we can only guess at the full importance," he said.
The hoard now
The portion of the hoard that has been recovered is in the possession of the British Museum.
But a selection of the most important items is currently on show, at certain dates, at the Hereford Museum Resource and Learning Centre in Friar Street while it awaits the construction of a new museum at the city's Maylord shopping centre.
I met Herefordshire Council’s collections officer Ben Moule there to see for myself the treasure.
Its temporary setting is far from ideal. It is kept in a mundane storage room not designed to accommodate visitors.
Nevertheless, with the room’s main lights off, the hoard is illuminated by the lights in its glass display case and becomes the sole focus of the visitor’s attention. The effect is spellbinding.
The treasure was concealed and then recovered by men who lived a millennium apart yet shared the same human flaws – they were greedy and contemptuous of the law. It is a distasteful yet compelling link in the story of the hoard.
The item that caught my eye first was the chunky eight-sided gold ring with black inlaid designs around its circumference.
It looks huge, but Ben explained that jewellery like this was designed to be seen and to impress, and it may have been large so it could be worn on the outside of a gloved finger.
The pendant, unfortunately, is not yet on public display. It has not yet been properly conserved and is considered too fragile to move. But I was given a glimpse of it in its secure storage.
It is exquisite. A small crystal sphere is mounted in a delicate frame of four gold strips. It glistens as brightly as the day it first lit up its creator's Dark Ages workshop.
Ben recalled the moment that he laid eyes on them: "It literally took my breath away, and I could feel my heart beat faster. It is just magical.
"You can create a story in your mind about someone who was amassing this treasure," he said, reaching for the words to explain why the treasure has such an allure. "Articles like these create a little window into a moment in time."
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