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She smiled. “A shepherd from one of the farms found a silver coin and he brought it to Judah. Judah was always interested in coins, and he knew what it was.” She smiled. “I remember how pleased he was, because it was rather romantic, it was Anglo-Saxon, Alfred the Great, who defeated the Danes, or at least held them at bay, in the late 800s. The coin we found might have been part of the Danelaw tribute, since the rest of it was Viking silver, ornaments, jewelry, and harness. When we found the whole treasure there were Norse Irish brooches, and arm rings, Scandinavian neck rings, Carolingian buckles from France, and coins from all over, even Islamic ones from Spain, North Africa, the Middle East, and as far as Afghanistan.” Her wonder stayed for a moment or two longer, then faded as the present intruded again.

“Judah invited professional archaeologists in, of course,” she resumed. “And they dug very carefully. It took them all of one summer, but they uncovered the ruins of a building, and in it the whole hoard of coins and artifacts. Most of the things are in a museum, but lots of people come to see the ones we kept, and naturally they stay in the village. Our lakeside cottages are let nearly all the time.”

“I see.”

She turned to look at him directly. “We had no idea it was there when we bought the estate! No one did. And the whole village profits from the visitors.”

“Is Gower suggesting that you did know about the hoard?” he asked.

“Not in so many words, but he is allowing it to be understood.”

“What exactly is he saying?” He could not help her to fight it if he did not know the truth, however ugly or distressing. The thought of Judah, of all men, being accused of dishonesty was most painful.

“That the deeds to the estate were genuine,” she replied. “And that Judah knew it all along, and bribed the expert to lie, so Colgrave could inherit, sell the property quickly and cheaply, because he needed the money, and Judah could buy it, and then pretend to discover the hoard.”

Henry saw at a glance both that the charge was preposterous, and that it could also be extremely difficult to disprove because it rested on no reasonable evidence. Gower was obviously a bitter man who had been punished for a particularly stupid crime, and now lashed out seeking some kind of vengeance, rather than trying to salvage and rebuild his life.

“Surely no one believed him,” he said aloud. “The expert said the deeds were forged, and there is nothing to suggest anyone at all knew of the Viking site. After all, it must have been there for centuries. None of Gower's ancestors knew of it, did they?”

“No! No one had the faintest idea,” she agreed.

“Chance,” he replied.

“I know that. But Gower is saying that we only waited long enough to make it seem as if we didn't know. But it alters nothing, if the deeds were genuine. It is only a small lie on top of a greater one.” Her voice dropped a little. The fire was burning lower and the lamplight softened the misery in her face. “Can you think of anything worse than to send an innocent man to prison, and blacken his reputation in order to steal his inheritance? That is what he is saying Judah did. And now he is not even here to defend himself!” She was close to losing control. The careful mask, which cost her so much, was beginning to slip.

Henry felt the need to say something quickly, but it must be both helpful and true. False comfort now would only make things worse later, and though she might well understand why he had done it, she would never trust him again.

“He made these charges before Judah's death?” he asked. The truth was a poor refuge, but it was all he had.

She looked up at him.

“Yes. He came out of prison in Carlisle, straight back here.” Suddenly anger took hold of her. “Why couldn't he have gone somewhere else, and started a new life where he wasn't known? If he'd gone to Liverpool or Newcastle, no one would have known he'd been in prison, and he could have begun again! I've never seen anyone so filled with anger. I've seen him in the street,