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Friday 13th is not usually seen as an auspicious day, but that date in December 2019 certainly proved fortunate for amateur metal-detectorist Charlie Clarke. He had only been practising his hobby for six months when he set out to explore farmland (with the owner’s permission) near Birmingham – but when his machine emitted a promising beep, what emerged from the soil can only be described as the find of a lifetime. The golden object was still so bright that it looked like a piece of modern costume jewellery but, following expert analysis (made possible by the fact that Charlie immediately reported his discovery to the local Finds Liaison Officer), it has since been recognised as one of the most complex and complete ornaments associated with the court of Henry VIII ever found.
The artefact in question is a pendant: 75 gold links form a chunky chain, and from the centre of this hangs a small, gold-and-enamel link shaped like a hand emerging from a cloud. This would have originally secured the object’s most visually striking component: a golden heart as big as an egg, hinged like a locket and adorned with colourful enamel. On one side, these decorations depict the Tudor rose and a pomegranate tree – emblems associated with Henry VIII and his first wife, Katherine of Aragon – while the couple’s initials appear as large, red letters on the other side.
We first reported on this discovery in CA 397, when the pendant was presented to the press at the launch of the British Museum’s Treasure and Portable Antiquities Scheme reports for 2020 and 2021 respectively. At that time, the artefact had undergone initial investigations in Birmingham and conservation by Drakon Heritage, as well as analysis at the British Museum, but it had not at that time received its coroner’s inquest in accordance with the 1996 Treasure Act. Since then, the pendant has been formally declared to be Treasure, and last month the British Museum launched a public fundraising appeal to acquire the object. The initiative (which has already received a donation of £500,000 from the Julia Rausing Trust) needs to raise £3.5 million by April 2026 to secure the object for public display and to prevent it from going to auction and potentially disappearing into a private collection. At the launch event, Dr Nicholas Cullinan, Director of the British Museum; Dr Rachel King, Curator of Renaissance Europe and the Waddesdon Bequest; and British Museum Trustee Dame Mary Beard emphasised the artefact’s importance – and explained what historical and scientific research has revealed since it was last in the news.
A prize find?
As we discussed in CA 397, the pendant is not thought to have belonged directly to either Henry or Katherine – there is no mention of anything similar in the extensive inventories that document the pair’s possessions, and, although the object is ornate and skilfully made, it also appears to have been produced quite hastily. It was probably made using Henry’s money, however. The king is known to have commissioned London goldsmiths on numerous occasions to create costume jewellery for courtiers to wear at state occasions and major celebrations; might this pendant represent a rare surviving example of this kind of bauble? Its chain measures 17 inches around, a fairly standard collar size in modern men’s shirts, but, although the pendant is slightly damaged, there is little evidence of ordinary use-wear indicating that it had been worn frequently or for any great length of time. The fact that the enamelling on its surface, while vibrant, is quite sparingly used might also suggest that the object had been destined for recycling in the goldsmith’s melting pot once it had served its intended purpose (something that might explain, too, why no similar artefacts are known).
Even if the pendant was only meant to be short-lived, however, its recipient would have been a high-ranking courtier. The whole piece weighs around 340g, and the strict sumptuary laws of the time (which dictated what people could wear depending on their station in life) banned anyone below the status of a baron, knight, or their sons from wearing gold ornaments of this size. It is thought that the object might have been intended as a prize for a noble participant in a tournament overseen by Katherine and Henry – and, given the make-up of its black enamel, which includes cobalt as a colourant, this event must have taken place before the 1530s. A key clue emerged early in the British Museum team’s historical research: while analysing the object’s imagery, they identified written sources from 1521 that document payments for the unpicking of embroideries on horse bards (decorative cloths) held in storage at Greenwich Palace, then an important royal residence, Descriptions of the textiles include all of the motifs that appear on the pendant – hands emerging from clouds, pomegranates, Tudor roses, and the letters H and K – and it is tempting to think that it could have been awarded at the same joust where these bards were worn. What could this occasion have been?
An optimistic artefact
Research has progressed since our last coverage of the pendant, and a specific event has now been proposed, opening out the ornament’s story from one of courtly splendour to a wider picture of European politics, dynastic ambitions, and hope for the future. When I spoke to Dr Rachel King at the press briefing, she suggested a link to the 1518 Treaty of Universal Peace, also known as the Treaty of London. Primarily driven by Henry VIII’s chief advisor Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, these diplomatic efforts saw the major powers of Christian Europe come together to stand against the expanding influence of the Ottoman Empire. The main signatories were England, France, the Holy Roman Empire, the Netherlands, the Papal States, and Spain, and, in a move that seems remarkably modern, their leaders pledged not to attack each other and, NATO-like, to come to the aid of any member of the group who faced an external threat. The treaty also forged a new alliance between England and France, which was formalised by the betrothal of Henry and Katherine’s infant daughter, the future Mary I, to the equally young Dauphin. This arrangement was marked with lavish celebrations including jousts, culminating in the grand spectacle of the Field of the Cloth of Gold in 1520.
If the pendant was associated with events surrounding the Treaty of Universal Peace, it gives new meaning to the smaller lettering that appears on its surface alongside Henry and Katherine’s initials: the word tousiors, Old French for ‘always’. As the ornament dates to early in Henry and Katherine’s marriage, long before Anne Boleyn came on the scene, it might be taken as a reference to their devotion to each other. Henry’s first marriage was his longest by far (24 years, while the others lasted around 3.5 years to a matter of months), and Katherine was a trusted confidante, governing on the king’s behalf when he was campaigning abroad. The fact that the word tousiors is split in half by a small cross might also hint at an affectionate pun, playing on the similar sound of iours and the English ‘yours’ to imply not just ‘always’, but ‘all yours’. Within the political context of the Treaty of Universal Peace, however, the text takes on new significance, Rachel suggests. As well as Henry and Katherine’s personal union, it might represent their dynastic aspirations and hopes for a lasting peace in Europe.
In this light, the object reminds us, too, that these alliances were not just the work of ‘great men’. Their female family members also played an important diplomatic role – albeit not always by choice – whether in the case of Princess Mary, promised to a foreign prince for political purposes, or her mother Katherine, whose own marriage to Henry came as a dutiful substitute after his older brother, her original intended, died. Finally, the pendant encourages us to envisage a Henry very different to that of popular imaginings: not the imposing figure of Holbein’s paintings, nor the capriciously cruel character of his later reign, but a young man who had never expected to become king, who was just nine years into his reign when the treaty was signed, and who was clearly keen to make his mark on the European political scene – and to splash his cash to achieve this.
Ultimately, tousiors proved to be overly optimistic – European rivalries soon revived, and Henry broke off Mary’s engagement after just three years in order to betroth her to the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, who was Katherine’s nephew and 16 years Mary’s senior. (This arrangement was also short-lived, terminated by Charles V, who wanted to pursue a relationship with Portugal.) Even if these alliances turned out as temporary as the pendant was intended to be, however, the object offers a fascinating glimpse into the world of Tudor state affairs and how important moments were celebrated.
We still do not know how, or when, it came to be buried in a Warwickshire field, far from the Tudor court. Its weight, roughly the same as a tin of soup, means that it is unlikely to have been a casual loss – unlike a coin or a ring, you would notice the difference if you dropped it. Perhaps it was hidden by one of the inhabitants of the county’s many castles, who thought it no longer prudent to own an object linking Henry and Katherine after their marriage was annulled (an event that saw the queen’s emblems stripped from architecture and objects alike). Perhaps it represents stolen goods buried for a retrieval that never came. Or perhaps it was a family heirloom secreted for safekeeping during a later crisis – possibly the English Civil War, in which Warwickshire played an active role. For now, this mystery endures, but the pendant represents a thought-provoking object full of stories that – like the ornate horse-cloths that hinted at its possible origins – are now being carefully unpicked.
Further information:
The pendant is now on display in the British Museum’s Gallery 2, where it will remain until April 2026. For more information about the fundraising campaign, see http://www.britishmuseum.org/tudor-heart-appeal.
For more information about the Treasure process and the legal obligations of potential finders in England, Wales, or Northern Ireland, see http://www.finds.org.uk/treasure. Scotland is covered by the Treasure Trove Unit; see http://www.treasuretrovescotland.co.uk.
All images: © The Trustees of the British Museum
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