Peter bought a metal detector after a television programme showed a man finding a gold coin in a muddy field.
His wife, June, asked whether finding it had taken long.
“They only showed the successful part.”
“That is how your gardening programmes work too.”
Peter practised in the back garden. The detector squealed beside the compost heap.
He dug up a bottle cap.
It squealed beneath the washing line.
He dug up a clothes peg with a metal spring.
By lunchtime, he had found a tent peg, two rusty screws, and the teaspoon June had lost while planting bulbs.
He cleaned the teaspoon and placed it in a display tray.
June returned it to the drawer.
“Domestic silver,” she said.
On Sunday, Peter found a sixpence beside the neglected vegetable bed.
He called June outside.
“Look at the date.”
She put on her glasses.
“Older than the lawnmower.”
“It could indicate a settlement.”
“We settled here in 1993.”
Peter photographed the coin, measured its depth, and marked the spot with a small flag.
On Tuesday, he found another.
On Thursday, a third appeared near the rhubarb.
He drew a map.
He rang the television programme to ask how discoveries should be reported.
The receptionist advised him to establish what he had found before announcing anything.
Peter wrote PRELIMINARY FINDINGS across the top of his map.
June suggested putting “very preliminary” underneath.
The coins formed a line.
June suggested following it.
Peter dug a careful trench. The line continued around the vegetable patch.
His friend Leo came to assist. Leo owned a sieve and enjoyed saying “context” while looking at mud.
They found two more coins, a brass button, and half a horseshoe.
Leo believed the horseshoe indicated agricultural activity.
June looked at the unweeded bed.
“Not recently.”
The men widened the trench. Peter photographed every stage. Leo labelled bags.
By the end of the week, the bed was clear of weeds, stones, and the roots Peter had promised to remove three summers earlier.
June brought tea.
“I never knew you could dig for so long.”
“Purpose changes everything.”
She nodded thoughtfully.
Peter decided they should extend the excavation into the adjoining patch.
June advised caution.
“You do not want to destroy the evidence.”
He agreed to pause while Leo researched the finds.
That evening, Leo called.
The coins were common. The button was modern. The horseshoe had been broken deliberately; its edge was too clean for natural damage.
Peter felt disappointed until Leo mentioned that arranged objects could suggest a ritual deposit.
Peter straightened.
“A ritual?”
“Possibly. Possibly someone emptying a pocket.”
June sat across the kitchen table, sorting seed packets.
Peter explained that the garden might have historic importance.
She asked whether historically important soil still needed manure.
The next morning, Peter went to fetch his digging boots. In June’s shed, he noticed a tin marked CHRISTMAS PUDDING SIXPENCES.
Inside were three coins.
Beside it lay the other half of the horseshoe and a packet of brass buttons.
He carried them into the kitchen.
June looked up.
“The settlement has been discovered,” he said.
She did not deny it.
“You planted the treasure.”
“I prefer ‘provided motivation.’”
“Those were my hours of work.”
“And this is your vegetable bed.”
Peter spread out his archaeological map.
“You even made a trail.”
“I tried pointing at the weeds. Apparently flags work better.”
He called Leo to cancel the excavation.
Leo asked what the discovery meant.
Peter looked out at June planting rows in the freshly turned soil.
“A sophisticated local civilisation.”
“How old?”
“Seventy-one.”
June held out a packet.
Peter read the label.
CARROTS.
“Roman?” he asked.
“No. Yours.”