Billy Thomas and the boys met at the edge of the village. Maldwyn, the farmer, had promised them sixpence each if they cleared a field of potatoes. Armed with sandwiches and bottles of water they wandered up to the field. Maldwyn showed them how to do the job.
Toiling away, they split the field into sections and a competition started. Billy really wanted to win, so he was tugging each plant and throwing his catch into the wooden crate. As the day wore on, they were all tiring; time for a break. Laying against the wall petty rivalry and squabbling broke out, each convinced they would win.
Billy stood up, walking back to his patch, kicking the dirt as he went. He settled back into a rhythm: tug, pull, into the crate. One plant refused to come. Digging around, Billy’s hand felt something hard pulling the earth around it. He found a small wooden cask. Looking around, he slipped it into his bag to show the boys later.
At the end of the day, they had cleared half the field. Tired and dirty they trudged home aching all over, so no meeting tonight. In the safety of his bedroom Billy prised the box open. He was disappointed as he found only a load of coins, not even ones he could use. Closing the lid, he was tempted to throw the lot but thought the boys might be interested. He placed the box in his hiding space in the cupboard in his room.
They finished the field the next day, the farmer kept his promise, and each went home delighted. They arranged to meet later at their den. Billy extracted the box and put it in his bag. With a flourish he produced the box. The boys crowded round, gasping as he opened the lid. Each handling the coins was disappointed that it was not real money, although Wynn kept rubbing them. Then his eyes lit up with excitement. ”I think they are Roman coins. We are rich. They are worth a fortune.”
Excited chatter bubbled up about what to do. Owen offered to ask his brother to take them to the junk shop in Neath. Wynn said he would take them to the library to check. Each took one coin; Billy stuffed the box back in his bag. Two days later there was hammering on the door, making them all jump. The local bobby and Maldwyn stood there. Maldwyn, red in the face, ranted that they had stolen his property, the coins were his. Mr. Jenkins, the policeman, nodded. Billy like a rabbit in the headlights gaped as everyone stared at him, his mother glaring.
Mr Jenkins came, in leaving Maldwyn on the doorstep, Billy’s father blocking his way. Much of the discussion was over Billy’s head. The one who had betrayed him turned out to be Wynn, who had gone to the library. In his excitement had showed the coin to the librarian, who told the farmer, who called the police.
Billy trudged up the stairs almost in tears, bringing the box down. He tried to protest, saying he had found it. Mr Jenkins explained that the coins were treasure trove and belonged to the crown, but because they were found on the farmer’s land the law said they were his. Any money would go to him.
Crestfallen Billy sank into the chair he was so close to being rich.
