Treasure Trove

By Eric Brady

Spurred by a Celtic Exhibition, Dee and Trevor go Treasure Hunting with Trevor's granddad's Metal Detector and guidance at Willowtree Farm. They find a cache of coins - that vanish by the time the Finds Liaison Officer attends. The farmer is suspected but there's no evidence. Dee and Trevor investigate. The Police get involved and follow Dee's idea of a 'Sting' but move too quickly letting the farmer get away with the evidence. More treasure hunting at Grainger's farm next door see Dee, Trevor and 6 yrs. old Nellie Grainger trapped in flooding cave. Escaping through a nuclear bunker just in time the do more treasure hunt, making finds of Celtic jewellery. The police raid Willowtree Farm but the farmer and his son escape. They crash into a parked police car, are trapped unconscious and the vehicle catches fire. Dee and Trevor try to pull them free but it takes Dee's stronger Dad to succeed. They find the stolen coins in the car.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781326620837

Eric Brady

Eric Brady was born and brought up in the South East of London, apart from a period of evacuation during the war years, mainly spent in Wales in the foothills of the Brecon Beacons. Brought back to London by his parents in September 1942, Eric was severely injured in a bombing incident in January 1943, in which his older sister was killed. He became a Minister of a Church, and then a full-time Supply Teacher for two years of teenage boys and girls, finally after a University Diploma Course becoming a Probation Officer in the Midlands. Eric retired several years ago and has turned his hand to novel writing.

Book preview

Treasure Trove

TREASURE   TROVE

DEE'S DIARIES - 4

By

Eric Brady

TREASURE TROVE

DEE'S DIARY 4

Eric Brady Books

This book is a work of fiction.  People, places, events and situations are the product of the author's imagination.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or historical events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the Author.

C 2016 Eric Brady.  All rights reserved.

Cover image C morrbyte

First published by Eric Brady  2016

ISBN:  978-1-326-620837

DEDICATION

To Lizzie, Finlay, Rory and Darcy – my grandchildren.

And to everyone who wants to be an Author.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My grateful thanks to those who helped me with many aspects of the  technical details of archaeological Digs.

My granddaughter, Lizzie Nicholson, at present an Archaeology Student at Cardiff University for her information about the tools used by Archaeologists and also the differences in the natural preservation characteristics of bodies by bogs and marshes,

Vanessa Oakden, the Finds Liaison Officer for Merseyside and Cheshire for her help with the details of the procedures for notifying Finds from Metal Detectors to the appropriate authorities,

Mark Harrison, National Policing and Crime Advisor to Historic England, for his help on the procedures by the Coroners Court following the reporting of an apparent theft of Treasure Trove.

If there are any inaccuracies in the technical details these are mine.

Treasure Trove is a distinct and ancient law that has been integrated into the Treasure Act 1996.

Chapters

6th May.  The Celtic Warrior                                               

7th May.   Our first Treasure Hunt                                      

8th May    What's Sandy up to?                                           

13th May   Finds and Nightmares                                         

14th May   The Finds Liaison Officer                                     

19th May    Surviving the week                                                  

20th May   Where's Trevor's treasure?                                 

21st May   Checking on Willowtree Farm                             

22nd May  What are the Standish's up to?                           

26th May   What some Celtic coins are worth                      

27th May   Gruesome Finds                                                 

29th May   Website Watch                                                   

6th  June   The scare of my life                                            

7th  June   The cops come                                                   

10th June   Doing what the cops can't do                             

13th June   Web Watch success?                                        

14th June   Web Watch success!                                         

15th June   The Sting is on                                                  

16th June   Sentencing Sheila                                             

20th June   Doing what the cops said I mustn't                 

25th June   The Sting operation                                         

27th June   Facebook 'Friends' with Standish?                   

4th July    More Finds                                                       

18th July    The Cave                                                          

19th July    Still more Finds                                              

20th July    Our Bunch pester me to come                       

21st July    I'd tried!  Honest!  Well – sort of                    

23rd July    Shock.  And Clash                                         

24th July    Our Bunch should be detectives                  

29th July    Finds and Fire                                                

23rd Aug.   Sandy in trouble                                            

25th Aug.   Another Mystery                                            

26th Aug.   That Mystery sorted   

6th May   The Celtic Warrior

It really began that Saturday when Trevor suggested we went to a new Exhibition on show at their Town Museum.  I'd biked the 5 miles to their new house.  They'd just moved to the side of their town nearer to ours.  Pity they hadn't moved right into our town.  He'd shown me over it – and that was that done.

It's about the Celtic Era.  You know, the Bronze Age, Trevor said.  But this Exhibition is a bit like a travelling circus because they're going round loads of Museums on Tour, staying a couple of weeks at each one before moving on.  They've got people dressed up like they used to be to tell people about things.

That sounded really cool so we biked over there double-quick.  (If you've read any of my other Diaries you'll know we got together on our first adventure in Lanzarote)

At the entrance there was a lady wearing a long brown woollen dress that reached right down to the floor, with a shawl round her shoulders.

Have ye come to see us? she asked.

Yes please, we said together.

And then she charged us a £1 each to go in!  Usually the Museum is free.  But we paid up because we did want to go in.

Is that what Celtic women wore? I asked.  It looked okay for winter – but really too hot for a warm spring day like today.  Specially going down to the ground as it did.

In the summer rich ladies would wear linen clothes, not heavy wool like this.  But they still looked like this.  Reaching to the ground I mean.  But my husband and I are not rich.  My name is Aila.  Please go on in to see our home.

In the big room that had been cleared of the old fireman and policeman uniforms that had been there before, there were tables around with stuff on and a half-size (so the sign said) replica of a Celtic round house with half the thatched roof and wall cut away so you could see the layout inside.  There were signs saying what things were, like the beds and where the loom and hearth were.

Standing by one of the tables was a big man with a beard.  He was wearing trousers, a long tunic and a cloak.  And he was holding a long, sharp-looking spear in one hand, his other hand was resting on the top of a big oval shield and a long, heavy-looking sword was on his belt.

He was standing so still I thought he was a dressed up model so I nearly jumped out of my skin when he suddenly said in a very deep voice, By all means look into my house, young sir and madam.  My name is 'Ahern'.  It means, 'Lord of the horses'.  My father gave it to me when he saw how good I was at taming them.

He joined us by the house.

"I built it myself.  Gathered the timbers, cut the thatch, collected the mud from the river to pack the thatch and walls to keep the warmth in and the winds out and built the beds and loom.

This table here shows the village where my house was.

We went over to a table where there were models of several of his type of houses inside a stone wall with wooden railings on top.  Ahern called it a 'Palisade'.  There were fields outside and sheep, cattle and horses scattered around with forests further over.

There are many villages like this in our tribe.  Some like to live in a ton or toun as we call it.  A kind of very large village, but I did not like that.  Too crowded, too many other people, always noise.  And to get wood for building things and maintaining the fire you had to make further and further journeys.  Or pay someone to bring it.  And it takes longer to get to your fields as well.  This is much better.

Suppose so, I said carefully.  But I prefer living in a town like I do.  Alright it's a small town but not a tiny village like Ahern's is.  Was.  If it had been real.  I wouldn't like to live in a really big place like London though, so I suppose it's the same kind of thing.

These were found in my village, Ahern said, moving on to another table.

Laid out in careful rows was a load of coins.  Most had faces on but others had horses and some others had patterns.  Totally uninteresting.

They may not look much, but to the collector of such rarities they are worth a lot.

How much?  we asked together, now interested.

One hoard dug up a few years ago in Jersey was reckoned to be worth £10 million.

W-H-A–T!!!

"That was reckoned to have 30,000 to 50,000 coins in and at first glance they were thought to be worth about £200 each.  But that was the biggest hoard ever found.  Usually it's an occasional coin or perhaps just a few.

But on the Internet coins are often advertised, mostly they are around £100 and £600.  But a Gold Stater was auctioned for £21,000 a few years ago.

Wow!  So, how much are those worth? Trevor pointed at the table.

Ah.  The man leaned over Trevor.  Why do you think I'm here with this?  He shook his spear.

Surely he wouldn't  --------!!!!!

And this is what a spear like this did once, the man said going to another table and pointing at what was obviously an old, a very old, chainmail armour.

I knew what it was because I'd seen a pageful of them from different periods in History.

This one though had a gash on the left side near the top.

This was found in a Celtic grave.  A skeleton was inside it – and we could even see where the ribs were broken exactly where he was wearing the breastplate.  So the spear went right through the armour and got him in the heart.

I looked at it.  It's one thing looking at pictures of things like that in history books – but a real person had been wearing this one in a real battle - and this had happened to him.

Didn't do him much good then, did it? said Trevor hard-heartedly I thought, just as  bunch of noisy kids charged into the room.

So where's all this gold, treasure and stuff they've dug up? shouted one of them.

I spun round.  As I'd thought.  It was Sandy Griffiths!

I'd first met her in Lanzarote.  Trevor and I had already met up and for different reasons he was travelling round the island with us, exploring.

But Sandy tried to muscle in on him because she'd met him before and she'd liked him.  She's pretty, she's got long, light-brown hair and she's got loads of money.  So any lad'd go nuts over her.

Trevor had tried to give her the brush-off but that girl has got the hide of a rhinoceros (as Mum said once) and she kept on coming back.  Till she met up with Ranolf.  But that's another story.  (In my first Diary)

And then she and her Mum and step-Dad moved to Trevor's town so she started going to his school (living in a different town I went to another) and tried moving in on him again.  When we went to that combined school camp in Scotland (see 'The Haunted Castle') she was worse than ever.

Trevor still stayed with me but – well you can never tell can you?  With Sandy being a girl like she is.

So I hate her.  And she hates me because she seems to get her own way in everything else but not with Trevor.

Trevor!! she gushed, rushing over to him.  She grabbed him and tried to kiss him, but he pushed her away just in time.

That girl!

What d'you think of all this treasure hunting, Trev? she asked hanging onto his arm.

Could be interesting, he mumbled, trying to shake her off.

That's what I thought!  Tell you what.  I'll get one of those Metal Detector things treasure hunters use and we could go off next weekend somewhere and see what we can turn up.  Maybe we'll find things worth millions!

Can't.  I'm – I'm going to – to the Scilly Islands next weekend.

I stared at him.  That was the first I'd heard of that!

The next weekend then?

I've got to see an Aunt in Chesterfield.

The next weekend?

My grandparents in Portsmouth.  On my  mother's side.

The next weekend?

My other grandparents in Newcastle.  On my father's side.

I knew they lived just three streets away from where Trevor lives.

The next weekend?

Another Aunt in – in Aberystwyth.

Sandy dropped his arm (he'd not been able to shake her off) and glared at him.

I think you're giving me the runaround, Trevor Simkins.

Me?  Really?  Ready to go Dee?

We ran out of the room, grabbed our bikes and got away quick to a cafe we know by the river.

Next weekend Trev?  I thought you were coming to ours?  Not going off to  ---,

I am.  Coming to yours I mean.  The other was the best I could think up quick like that.

That's alright then, I said, mighty relieved.  And the other weekends?

Made up.  But with Aunts and Uncles I could have gone on for ever.

We got a couple of Cokes and buns.

But this treasure hunting thing Dee, he said, looking at the river.  What about us having a go?  I think my Grandad's got a Metal Detector.  The one that lives just a couple of streets from us.  I could ask him if we could borrow it to have a go.

That's an idea!  Be real fab if we could find a hoard like those people did in Jersey!

Half-an-hour later we were knocking on Trevor's Grandad's door. His Grandma said he was working in his Den and to go right on down.

The Den was really just their garage but when they got a smaller car, he used the end of it to do all sorts of stuff in.  Part of it had always been a workshop.

He wasn't.  Working