Spink London, Coming soon
Spink proudly presents the sale of the Hambleden Hoard – an extraordinary find that illuminates the fears, fortunes, and fate of a noble family living under the looming shadow of the Black Death in a world teetering on catastrophe.
In April 2019, a group of metal detectorists attending the ‘Spring Detectival’ rally in the lush fields of Hambleden, Buckinghamshire, made a remarkable discovery: a substantial hoard of medieval coins buried beneath the ploughsoil in this peaceful countryside along the River Thames. The hoard included more than 600 silver coins and, crucially, 12 gold nobles of Edward III, buried in a way that hints at both urgency and intention.
Later this year, the complete hoard will go under the hammer at Spink, sparking the centuries-old mystery: Who buried this treasure? Why was it hidden? To whom did it belong? And what was happening at the time?
The Hambleden Hoard appears to have been buried in two distinct phases. The first deposit comprises hundreds of silver coins (mainly English pennies of Edward I and II) alongside examples from Scotland, Ireland, and continental Europe, dating up to the mid-1320s. The second phase came two decades later, after 1346, when a dozen high-value gold nobles were added. These coins are from Edward III’s Third Coinage, specifically the second type of noble minted between July 1346 and 1351.
Notably, the absence of any coins from the ‘Pre-Treaty’ series strongly implies that they were deposited between 1346 and 1350. Such a two-phase deposit suggests a deliberate and possibly reactive act of concealment.
Prior to this discovery, only 12 examples of these gold nobles were known. The Hambleden Hoard has doubled that figure, making it one of the most significant finds of hammered coinage in recent history. This group is a monumental statement of wealth and power – especially given that it represents half the known gold in circulation at the time.
Further close examination of the coins by specialists at Spink revealed traces of a whitish residue, likely quicklime or mortar, fused to the surface of some coins. Could it be that the coins were once sealed within a wall, hidden deliberately in the foundations of a structure that once housed the hoard? Supporting this theory, excavators uncovered a dressed stone fragment and remnants of a wall, possibly belonging to the original Yewden Manor (the current manor dates to the 15th–16th century). Later maps from the 19th century show a ‘Eweden House’ at a location very close to where the hoard was found, rather than the current property that stands at Mill End, next to the river.
Despite this, the coins are in stunning condition, hinting that they went almost straight from mint to hiding place. Their pristine state, coupled with the likely two-stage burial, indicates a planned concealment, likely carried out in haste, quite possibly in the face of impending doom. The hoard’s total value of £6, 11 shillings and 4 pence, far exceeded the entire annual tax assessment for Hambleden Parish, which was only £5. Clearly, these coins belonged to someone of significant standing.
Why did no one return to claim it? The most plausible explanation comes in the form of the Black Death, which reached England in 1348 and devastated communities across the country. It very likely claimed the life of the hoard’s owner before they could return.
Discovered close to the hoard, at the same detecting rally, was a silver pendant set with a polished toadstone. These fossilised fish teeth were believed in medieval folklore to detect the presence of poison, protect the wearer from plague, and heal “all manner of grypings and paines of the guttes” (Topsell, The historie of foure-footed beastes, p. 727). The presence of such a talisman suggests the owner may have turned to both faith and superstition in a desperate attempt to ward off illness.
Powerful women once formed the human core of the Hambleden Hoard story.
But who could this have been? While not confirmed by any stretch, some compelling clues have emerged. Chief among them is a beautifully preserved silver seal matrix, again found at the same rally only a few metres from the hoard. Though not formally considered related, the seal bears the inscription: + SIGILLUM . MAR . GERIE . PEVREL – “The seal of Margerie Peverel.” Our cataloguers believe this connection is too significant to ignore. The seal is delicately engraved with a vase (or urn) of flowers, flanked by foliate scrolls and resting on a carved plinth. It also crucially incorporates the three wheat sheaves of the Peverel family crest.
The Peverel family, originally from Sampford Peverel in Devon, acquired Yewden Manor in 1249, when Sir Hugh Peverel II and his wife Margery of Devon purchased the estate via a land conveyance. They held the land for several decades, but rather than passing the manor to his son (also named Hugh), in April 1286 he confirmed the reversion of the manor to his daughter Amice (Amy) Peverel as life tenant of the estate on an annual ‘rose’ rent. Her role as legal owner was confirmed after the death of her second husband, Miles de Beauchamp, in 1338.
She remained in possession until at least 1346, after which she disappears from the historical record. In 1350, Amice’s son Reginald de Montford relinquished his claim to the manor, transferring it to Thomas, Lord Berkeley. This strongly suggests that she died during the plague years. Could it be that the seal belonged to Amice’s mother, Margery of Devon, and was passed down to her and remained on the estate?
An alternative owner of the seal may be Margaret de Cornwall (1276–1349), who married Sir James Peverel in 1299. She was a member of the royal Plantagenet lineage through her father, Sir Walter de Cornwall, an illegitimate grandson of King John. After Sir James’ death, she married Sir Richard Bergeaux, but seemingly remained deeply tied to the Peverel family, choosing to be buried alongside James when she died in August 1349 (once again, at the height of the Black Death).
A third candidate might be her granddaughter, Margaret Peverel (b. 1321), though there is little evidence she held land or managed property directly. More likely, the seal, bearing the Peverel name, belonged to a woman who had married into the family, not one born into it.
We will likely never know for certain who owned the hoard or whether the seal is directly linked, but what is clear is that powerful women once formed the human core of the Hambleden Hoard story: stewardesses of land, holders of wealth, and sadly, likely victims of a pandemic that took all of that from them in a heartbeat.
In 1345/46, Berkeley acknowledged that the manor had been held ‘in fee’ by Henry and Amice, nullifying the need to pay the estate manager Reginald an annual fee of a knight’s robe. After the transfer of the manor, Thomas d’Oyly acquired Yewden in 1354. His family went on to expand the estate, while his wife, Alice atte Lude, was the sister of the local tax collector who was later involved in administering the infamous Poll Taxes of 1377 and 1381.
Two years later, in 1383, Yewden Manor became the site of a gruesome episode: four of d’Oyly’s servants were murdered by armed raiders who escaped with horses. Whether this retribution was connected to the Peasants’ Revolt or merely opportunistic, it marked yet another grim chapter in the manor’s long and turbulent history.
Today, the former Yewden estate forms part of the Greenlands campus, home to Henley Business School. The seal matrix and the toadstone pendant reside in museum collections, but the Hambleden Hoard, after nearly 700 years hidden in the earth, will be offered for sale this autumn by Spink: an echo from a time of dread, and a tribute to the Peverels, whose stories it brings back to light.
The Hambleden Hoard will be offered for sale by Spink London. For further details please contact Ella Mackenzie, [email protected].