Barney Buttery His Half Peny

There are plenty of birds to be spotted in the Yorkshire Wolds. Rosamunda writes names in her notebook.

Robins, blue tits, great tits, coal tits, long-tailed tits, buzzards, jays and chiff-chaffs ( who are just passing through), crows , jackdaws, pheasants, swallows, bullfinches, chaffinches, kestrels, magpies, wrens, grey herons, kingfishers, a woodpecker.

All of them spotted by Ann.

Arthur sits under a larch tree, scraping the ground with his knife, waiting for lunch time.

Ding!

He's hit something hard. He digs round it, winkles it out.

Looks like a coin. He spits on it, rubs the dirt off. Holds it up to the light.

What's he found? says Ann Cox.

Rosie goes over to see.

It's a coin, says Rosie. Is it Roman?

No, says Arthur. It's got a date on. 1666.

Wow, says Rosie. 1666, that means you can keep it.

Nonsense, says Ann Cox. Let me see.

She opens a bottle of best Yorkshire apple juice, and tips it over the coin, washes it clean.

On one side are the words Barney Buttery, His Half Peny.

On the other side, three interlaced flowers, the initials BB, and the words Of Pocklington.

Rosie gets out her phone. Takes a photo. And sends it to someone.

Who are you sending that to? asks Ann Cox.

My mentor, says Rosie.

Mentor? says Arthur. Who is it?

Gaius, says Rosie. He's my mentor. He and me are like that.

Who's this Gaius? says Ann Cox. A natural historian?

Oh yes, says Rosie. The most famous one ever. Gaius Plinius Secundus. He'll love that coin.

He won't, says Arthur. It's too modern. He'd have liked it if it was Roman.

Arthur puts the coin in his pocket.

No, you don't, says Ann Cox. That is part of the heritage of Pocklington. Hand it over.

Take it, says Arthur, giving her his blue look, the one that always melted his mother.

Ann Cox is disarmed. How had she not noticed before how attractive this boy is?

Time for lunch, says Ann Cox, spreading a rug out and opening her basket.

Arthur, dear, do try some ham.