“It is the evil spirit that guards the treasure,” whispered Relf to Olaf, edging toward the ladder.

“Fetch Anselm the priest, and let him exorcise this,” said the earl.  “It is some witchcraft of the heathen Romans.”

“Were I in Finmark I would say that this was a ‘sending’ {7},” Olaf said, “but we are in Christian England, and this is but a toad.”

Now I said nothing, but I wished the beast away, for I would see the treasure I had found.  Then the earl bethought himself.

“Maybe it is but a toad,” he said.  “I will cast it out.”

And with that he went to do so, but liked it not, and drew back again.

“Toad or worse,” I said then, “I mind not their cold skin, and will see what it is.”

So I took hold of the beast, and it swelled itself out as I did so, and croaked a little.  That was the worst it did; but I will say this, that the sound almost made me drop it.  But I cast it behind me into the shadow, and then put both hands into the chamber and took out one of the bags.

It was full of gold coin, as was that which had been torn open, and as were all the rest—­ten of them—­when we looked.  And the coins were older than we could tell, being stamped with strange figures that bore some likeness to horses whose limbs fell apart, and a strange face on the other side.  Many had letters on them, and these were mostly—­CVNO.

“They are coins of the Welsh folk whom we conquered,” said Wulfnoth.  “I have seen the like before.  They made them at Selsea, and we find many there on the shore after storms.”

Now I think that we had found the hiding place of the tribute money that should be sent to Rome when some ship came thence or from beyond the Channel to fetch it, or maybe it was some iron master’s hoarded payment for the good Sussex iron that they smelted in these valleys in the Roman days.  More likely it was the first, for men would know that it had never been sent away.  None can tell how the places of these hoards are lost, but times of war have strange chances.  Then folk do but hand down the knowledge that, somewhere, the treasure is yet hidden {8}.

“Good booty had OElla and Cissa our forbears, but they have left some for us,” said Earl Wulfnoth.

“Here is gold enough to buy a good fleet for Ethelred,” said Olaf thoughtfully.

“Gold enough for you and me to win England for ourselves withal,” said the earl in a low voice.  “You take the Danelagh, and I the rest, and we will keep Ethelred for a puppet overlord.”

“If Cnut wins there will be time enough to think of that,” answered Olaf coldly.  “Eadmund is my friend.”

“Not Ethelred?” said Wulfnoth eagerly.

“I fight for him,” answered Olaf.

“Well, well.  I did but speak my own wish,” said the earl.  “You and I will not be agreed on this matter.”

Then he turned to Relf, and began to give him some directions about a horse whereon to load the treasure.  And Olaf and I went back up the ladder, leaving them, for the vault grew close and hot, and this was their business.  The earl would take it back to Pevensea, where it would be safe.  Word would go round quickly enough concerning the find, and of what value it was.  Nor would that grow less in the telling, though none of us had ever seen so much gold together before.