THIS IS FINDON VILLAGE — these Findon Chronicles are created by Valerie Martin and contain scenes from her home village of Findon,
West Sussex, U.K.    Everyday stories about real people.

AN ANGLO-SAXON'S BURIED HOARD

(and a ghost story)

Copyright Valerie Martin 1998.

First published in Along the Furlong in January 1998.

The ancient encampment above Findon, known as Cissbury Ring was, undoubtedly, an ancient British stronghold.  Cissbury Ring would have appeared as a formidable fortress to the invading Saxons but the local authorities in the Findon area appear to have surrendered to the Saxon sword without a battle. Although a pit housing a store of slings stones has been found but no evidence of a long siege or battle for possession of the massive stronghold.

Eddius, a writer in the 8th century described Sussex as still being a territory

The Saxon village of Findon lies buried and undisturbed under the site of the field north of St. John the Baptist Church.  I understand that because the Saxons built in wood, rather than stone, there are no upstanding building remaining.

During the reign of Aethelred II (1009-1016), and Cnut (1016-1035), the Sussex Saxon Mint was moved from its original base at Steyning, and coins of the realm were minted up on the Cissbury hillside above Findon. Possibly the threat of Viking aggression from over the sea persuaded the Saxons to relocate their Mint to within the embankments of the old fort.  

Anglo-Saxon coins have also been unearthed at nearby Chanctonbury which gives more evidence to habitation in the area overlooking Findon.

One chilly December day in 1866, Mr Johnson nearby West Grinstead was tilling land at Chancton Farm, a mile or so north of Chanctonbury Ring when his plough floundered.   He had quite by chance unearthed a cache of silver coins beyond belief.

The crock containing them was smashed wide open and the precious coins spilled and rolled in all directions.  A fellow farm worker approached, and then another ambled up, and they all suddenly began to enthusiastically scoop up the coins as fast a they could by the hundred.  In all there were some three thousand pennies. 

After the initial excitement the labourers studied their hoped for wealth more closely.   Not being recognisable currency of the kingdom, these simple men finally decided that the find was of only trinket value, and over the ensuing days the coins passed from hand to hand with mere curiosity and were not considered of any great monetary worth.

Washington was a village of some 800 souls as the festive season of Christmas of 1866 approached.  Interest in the novelty of the treasure-trove was still an active talking point at the Washington public house, the Frankland Arms, as the labourers mounted the steps into the bar.  The beer on offer by Mine Host was in excellent condition and their thirst equalled it until their money ran out.  William Woolgar, the innkeeper was enthused by his merry customers and was eventually persuaded to accept a half pint measure of the coins in exchange for a quart of beer from his barrels.   A quart of beer for a measure of worthless coins was considered good value by the customers.  The drinking buddies raised their jars, inhaled the bouquet and drained their ale with relish.

The discovery of the buried treasure eventually reached the ears of more literate men and the worthy postmaster and the Parham vicar became curious and decided to investigate further.  It was eventually revealed that the coins were, in fact, silver pennies from the reigns of Edward the Confessor and King Harold.    Many found their way into the safe keeping of Benjamin Cripps the grocer, draper and postmaster at nearby Ashington Common and he dutifully forwarded his hoard to the safe keeping of the British Museum.    The original crock in the ploughed field was estimated to have held nearly twice the number of coins and many had vanished and had been magically dispersed into the local locality.   Some may now be in private collections.... or are they all lost?  The pennies were of varying mints.... upwards of fifty different mints, including those of nearby Steyning (before the mint was moved to Cissbury), Chichester, Lewes and Hastings in Kent.    It can only be guessed but they were most likely buried by their original owner just prior to the Battle of Hastings.  

The mystery is, who was the man (it must surely have been a man) almost a thousand years ago, who was careful enough to consign his stockpile of amassed cash to an earthy vault?  Why did he do it?  Why did he not return to retrieve his accumulated riches and benefit from its wealth?  Did misfortune befall him?  I find there is inevitably a tragedy to be unearthed when there is a discovery of a buried hoard.  It is obvious that the owner squirreled this money away in fear of misadventure.  Finally disaster caught up with him and he was never to return.

There is a strange paranormal tale passed down the ages in connection with the discovery of this treasure and the real truth is lost in the mists of time. The spot where the plough turned up the money was known at the time as Gurth's Barn but the building had been destroyed prior to the find. The name is explained by the fact that the land to the north of Chanctonbury was owned in Saxon times by King Harold's brother, Earl Gurth. After the find by Mr. Johnson, the land became known as Treasure Barn Field.

The form of a dejected Saxon with a flowing white beard has been sighted in Treasure Barn Field from "time-everlasting beyond". Tradition relates that he was the tenant of Chancton Manor and killed at the Battle of Hastings and his ghost has been witnessed with bowed head looking at the ground as if seeking the coins he has lost forever. The legend has been testified by dependable people, although the phenomena is scientifically unexplainable. Sceptics may put forward the theory that the "spectre" is, in fact, various different solitary old gentlemen on their constitutional eventide strolls — but nevertheless, I think it be best not to distract him if he is deep in thought.

In 1893, the Rector of nearby Ashurst, vouched for the truth of the handed down story saying, "I know Johnson well, and have heard the account of the ghost and the finding of the treasure from his lips, and he showed me a penny of Edward the Confessor, minted at Steyning, which he retained".

When next driving north from Findon and turning right along the foot of the Downs from the Washington roundabout and heading towards Steyning, spare a thought for the Anglo-Saxon soldier who hid his worldly goods and failed to return to collect them.   When looking across the fields below Chanctonbury, imagine the glee of the labouring men, who close to the festive season, scrabbled to gather the coins — which were eventually to provide them with no more wealth than supping a quart of beer.

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This is Findon Village — www.findonvillage.com is a continually growing record created by Valerie Martin exclusively for documenting life in Findon and beyond.