Elizabeth George - This Body of Death

“I was hoping for the opposite,” he replied. And could Ms. Robayo tell him what such a coin might be worth? “I’d heard between five hundred and a thousand pounds,” Lynley said. “Would you agree?”

“Let’s just have a quick look.”

She took him to her office where amid books, magazines, and documents on her desk, she also kept her computer. It was a small matter to access a site on which coins were sold and a smaller matter to find on this site an aureus from the time of Antoninus Pius offered for bidding on the open market. The amount being asked was given in dollars, three thousand, six hundred. More than Dugué had thought likely. Not a huge sum, but a sum to kill for? Possibly.

“Do coins like these need a provenance?” Lynley asked.

“Well, they’re not like art, are they? No one’s going to care who’s owned it in the past unless, I suppose, it was some Nazi who took it off a Jewish family. The real questions about it will circle round its authenticity and its material.”

“Meaning?”

She indicated the computer screen on which the aureus for sale was pictured. “It’s either an aureus or it’s not an aureus: It’s pure gold or not. And that’s not something that’d be tough to sort out. As to its age-is it really from the period of Antoninus Pius?-I suppose someone could fake one, but any coin expert would be able to spot that. Besides, there’s the question of why one would go to all the trouble of faking a coin like this. I mean, we’re not talking about faking a ‘newly discovered’ painting by Rembrandt or van Gogh. You c’n imagine what something like that would be worth if someone could pull the wool successfully. Tens of millions, eh? But a coin? One would have to ask if thirty-six hundred dollars makes it worth the effort.”

“Over time, however?”

“You mean, if someone had faked a lorry load of coins to sell in dribs and drabs? Possibly, I s’pose.”

“May I have a look at one?” Lynley asked. “Aside from on the computer screen, I mean. D’you have any here in the museum?”

They did indeed, Honor Robayo told him. If he’d follow her…? They’d have to toddle over to the collection itself, but it wasn’t far and she expected Lynley would find it interesting.

She led him back through time and place in the museum-ancient Iran, Turkey, Mesopotamia-until they got to the Roman collection. Lynley had been here but not in years. He’d forgotten the extent of the treasure.

Mildenhall, Hoxne, Thetford. They were called the hoards because that was how they had each been found, as a hoard hidden through burial during the time of the Romans’ occupation of Britain. Things hadn’t always gone swimmingly for the Romans as they attempted to subdue the people whom they’d come to rule. Since those people hadn’t generally taken well to being vanquished, rebellions occurred. During these intermittent periods of revolt, Roman riches were concealed to keep them safe. Sometimes the owners of these riches were unable to return for them, so they remained buried for centuries: in sealed jars, in wooden cases lined with straw, in whatever was available at the time.

This had been the case for the Mildenhall, Hoxne, and Thetford Hoards, which comprised the main treasures that had been found. Buried for more than one thousand years, each had been unearthed during the twentieth century and they included everything from coins to vessels, from body ornaments to religious plaques.

There were minor treasure hoards in the collection as well, each representing a different area of Britain where the Romans had settled. The most recently discovered was the Hoxne Hoard, Lynley saw, which had been uncovered in Suffolk on county council land in 1992. The discoverer-a bloke called Eric Lawes-had miraculously left the treasure exactly where and as it lay and had phoned the authorities at once. Out they came to scoop up more than fifteen thousand gold and silver coins; silver tableware; and gold jewellery in the form of necklaces, bracelets, and rings. It was a sensational find. Its value, Lynley reckoned, was incalculable.

“Much to his credit,” Lynley murmured.

“Hmm?” Honor Robayo said.

“The fact that Mr. Lawes turned it in. The treasure and this gentleman who found it.”

“Well, of course,” she said. “But really, less to his credit than you might think.” She and Lynley were standing in front of one of the cases that contained the Hoxne Hoard, where a reconstruction of the chest in which the hoard had been buried was rendered in acrylic. She moved from this across the room to the immense silver platters and trays from the Mildenhall Hoard. She leaned against the case and said, “Remember, this bloke Eric Lawes was out there looking for metal objects anyway. And as that’s what he was doing in the first place, he likely would’ve known the law. ’Course the law’s been changed round a bit since this hoard was found, but at the time, a hoard like Hoxne would’ve become the property of the Crown.”

“Doesn’t that indicate he’d have had a motive to hang on to it?” Lynley asked.

She shrugged. “What’s he supposed to do with it? Especially when the law said a museum could purchase it from the Crown-at fair market value, mind you-and whoever found it would get that money as a reward. That’s some considerable dosh.”

“Ah,” Lynley said. “So someone would be motivated to hand it over, not to hang on to it.”

“Right.”

“And now?” He smiled, feeling rather foolish for the last question. He said, “Forgive me. I probably ought to know the law about this, as a policeman.”

“Bah,” was her reply. “I doubt you come across many cases of people unearthing treasures in your particular line of work. Anyway, the law’s not much changed. Finder has fourteen days to report the treasure-if he knows it’s a treasure-to the local coroner. He actually could be prosecuted if he doesn’t ring up the coroner, as a matter of fact. Local coroner-”

“Hang on,” Lynley said. “What d’you mean, if he knows it’s a treasure.”

“Well, that’s the thing about the 1996 law, you see. It defines what a treasure is. One coin, f’r instance, does not a treasure make, if you know what I mean. Two coins, however, and you’re on shaky ground if you don’t get on the phone and let the proper authorities know.”

“So that they can do what?” Lynley asked. “On the off chance that all you’ve found is two coins and not twenty thousand?”

“So that they can bring out an archaeological team and dig the hell out of your property, I expect,” Honor Robayo said. “Which, to be frank, most people don’t mind because they end up with fair market value for the treasure.”

“If a museum wants to buy it.”

“Right.”

“And if no one does? If the Crown claims it?”

“That’s another interesting bit about the change in law. The Crown can only put its mitts on treasures from the Duchy of Cornwall and the Duchy of Lancaster. As to the rest of the country…? While it’s not exactly a case of finders keepers/losers weepers, the finder will end up with a reward when the treasure is finally sold, and if the treasure is anything like these”-with a nod at the cases of silver and gold and jewellery in room 49-“you can lay good odds on the reward being hefty.”

“So what you’re saying,” Lynley said, “is that the finder of something like this has absolutely no motivation for keeping the news to himself or to herself.”

“None at all. Of course, I s’pose he could hide it under his bed and bring it out at night and run his hands through it gleefully, for all that’s going to get him. Sort of a Silas Marner kind of thing, if you know what I mean. But at the end of the day, most people’d prefer the cash, I expect.”