A Tale of Value

A Tale of Value

The farthest back it can be traced is the collection of a wealthy businessman in Kent. He held it in his private collection for 50 years before bequeathing it to his son at his passing. The son, a man for whom vice came as naturally as breathing, lost the coin in a fit of gambling on his own fifty-third birthday. It should be noted that he did not remember the night at all in the morning, and thus never knew the fate of one of his father's most prized possessions.

The man who won the coin was no more above vice than the man from whom he had stolen it, which he most assuredly did, he having cheated at the card table for the entirety of the day. It was this cheating man's coin purse through which the coin once again changed hands. Of all the bad luck, within 24 hours he found himself fully intoxicated, not only with the heady flavor of an unprecedented treasure in his grasp, but also with the finest brandy he had been able to lay his grimy hands on.

In the tremendous wisdom of any drunk, he had decided to spend more money in celebration, this time on a lady of the night. After the deed was done, (or not done - he will never know) the lady found her own payment from his purse and left him passed out in the alleyway, where he woke the next morning to a severe headache and an even more severe disappointment.

She had no idea what she had in her hand, and it was still the dark of early morning when she passed the coin along to a baker for a warm meat pie and a small loaf of bread. The baker was a kind man and given to acts of charity, so (the baker having mistaken the coin for just another penny) the coin found its way into the hand of an old beggar woman along with a few other coins and a large loaf of bread. The beggar woman only nodded her gratitude as she slid the bread into her bag, but held the coins in her hand in anticipation of buying a little more food from another seller at the market.

Before she could make her purchases, she stumbled, scattering coins across the cobblestone road in her fall. A kind housemaid, sent to the market for a few necessary items to feed unplanned guests invited by the mistress of the house to stay the night before, helped the old woman stand and gather the coins she had dropped; but the special coin had rolled just a bit farther then the rest and remained uncollected until a small orphan child found it.

This child, a young girl named Clara, was smart, but sentimental, and while it was a sore temptation to spend the coin, she considered the providence of finding such a pretty little coin - different and all alone as it was - somewhat compelling. The fact that she was immediately spotted by a kind farmer and offered a sweet red apple served to solidify the value of the coin in her mind as a good luck charm.

She may have been the closest of all those through whose hands the coin had passed that one fateful day to understanding the true significance of the coin, for good luck did indeed seem to follow her from that day forward. Clara was adopted not long after that day by a loving couple and grew up in a happy, healthy home. She married and had six children and twenty-two grandchildren, one of which was a woman named Molly - my mother.

In her old age Clara formed a beautiful bond with her granddaughter Molly; and just before her passing Clara gave Molly a necklace with a large heart-shaped pendant Clara had worn since she was a child. Her parents had ordered the locket specially made for her. It resembled a locket meant for holding pictures, but it did not seem to open.

One day, after my mother had passed the necklace down to me in anticipation of her own departure, I dropped the delicate necklace and the joints holding the two pieces of the heart together came open. As I bent to retrieve the necklace and assess the damage I notice a golden shimmer. A coin was tucked into the two pieces of the locket, it had come loose and was slipping out when I reached down and picked both up carefully.

I examined the coin, knowing that if the necklace had been made in my great grandmother's youth it would be very old indeed. On one side there was what seemed to be a human figure wearing a headdress, in a seated position and possibly holding a child in one hand and a scepter in the other hand. Around the outside was an indistinguishable writing. On the other side of the coin was more indistinguishable writing on the outer rim, and inside was a cross with crowns on the four points with a half circle encasing each of these points and touching with the other half circles to form a sort of four leaf clover shape.

I was intrigued and began searching the internet for an answer to what this coin was. I had certainly never seen any like it before. What met my eyes was an unbelievable shock! If I was right, the coin I held in my had was made in 1343. My mind reeled. For days I wondered what I should do. This coin was worth a fortune. A few weeks later I came across my Great Grandmother's journals. As I read, I realized what this coin and necklace had meant to her. Yesterday, I took the locket to a friend of mine to reseal the clasp. Inside is a little golden treasure, but surrounding the locket is something of far greater worth, a history of love.