Moneyer

Eh! Oh, you startled me. Just a moment ... thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty. Forty silver pennies. Each one as good as they come.

I’m the moneyer – the person who turns any old silver into coins. The king holds Pembroke right now, and he is keen to build up a town and encourage settlers to move into the shire – so he needs a mint here - and a mint needs a moneyer.

It’s a precision job – give me a pile of silver coins or scrap from anywhere in Europe, and I can weigh them, check the silver is pure, and then melt them down and turn them into silver pennies you can spend anywhere in this country.

Yes, just pennies – nobody hereabouts needs a larger coin than that. Gold! Why would you ever need such a big coin here? Planning to buy the castle?

See this, I’ve been ordered to turn this pound of silver into pennies. I’ve made forty pennies already, so there are another two hundred to go. I weigh each pennyweight of silver out like this... tap it flat... and then put it between these two dies. And one ... two... three and it’s turned into a penny, see...king’s head on one side, cross on the other, along with my official mark. Forty one.

No, I don’t make the dies here, they come from London, from the Tower. And we moneyers make sure our pennies are the right weight, or it will be the Tower for us, or worse. Did you hear about what happened to Gillopatric, the last moneyer? That was a narrow escape...brrr!

Off you go now, or the sheriff will think you are planning to rob me. I’ve work to do and can’t stand gabbing with the likes of you!