The object, lifted from the ground by a hobby metal detectorist, has turned out to be a medieval personal seal hiding a much older treasure at its centre — a Roman gemstone, reused hundreds of years later by someone who wanted the world to know that his name, and his business, were “Richard’s secret.”
A tiny artefact with two timelines
The seal was found in autumn 2024 near Gosfield, a village in the eastern English county of Essex. Specialists with the Portable Antiquities Scheme, which records finds made by members of the public across England and Wales, have dated the silver seal matrix to roughly 800 years ago, during the High Middle Ages.
Despite its impact on archaeologists, the artefact is physically tiny. The oval seal is around 27.5 millimetres long — close to an inch — and weighs just 6.44 grams. A loop at one end suggests it was intended to hang, perhaps on a chain or cord, rather than being set into a ring.
The object pairs an 800-year-old medieval silver seal with a Roman gemstone carved at least 1,200 years earlier.
That combination is what has really electrified researchers. Medieval objects made from consciously reused Roman pieces are known, but they are not routine. This seal merges two eras: a medieval owner named Richard, and a carnelian gem cut in the late first century BC or early first century AD, probably in the Roman Empire.
“Richard’s secret” written in silver
Engraved around the bezel, running in mirror writing, is the Latin phrase “SECRETUM.RICARDI”. In English, that means “Richard’s secret” or “the secret [seal] of Richard”. Medieval men and women frequently used Latin on official objects, even when they spoke other languages in daily life.
The inscription sits alongside a cross pattée — a cross whose arms widen at the ends. This distinctive form appears widely in medieval Christian art and heraldry and is often associated with crusading orders such as the Knights Templar, although the presence of the symbol alone does not prove any direct Templar link.
The inscription “SECRETUM.RICARDI” signals a private seal, used for confidential correspondence or personal business.
Seals of this type acted a little like a signature and a brand combined. Pressed into warm wax, they authenticated documents, closed letters and signalled status. The use of the word “secretum” hints that this was not a broad, public emblem but a more private matrix, perhaps used for sensitive letters or agreements.
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A Roman charioteer at the heart of a medieval secret
The centre of the seal holds the real star: a blood-red carnelian gemstone, cut in intaglio — carved into the surface, rather than standing in relief. The design shows a two-horse chariot, or biga, racing at speed. A charioteer stands in the cart holding the reins and a whip, a classic scene from ancient circus races.
Experts date the gem to the late Republican or early Imperial period of Rome, placing it roughly 2,000 years old. That makes it around 1,200 years older than the silver that holds it.
- Material: Silver seal matrix with carnelian intaglio
- Seal date: Around 13th century AD (medieval)
- Gemstone date: Late 1st century BC – early 1st century AD (Roman)
- Inscription: “SECRETUM.RICARDI” and a cross pattée
- Findspot: Gosfield, Essex, England
Both the inscription and the image are engraved in mirror form on the seal. When pressed into wax, they would appear the right way round: a neat chariot scene, circled by “Richard’s secret”. Whoever Richard was, his emblem blended Christian symbolism, Latin literacy and a very old piece of Mediterranean craftsmanship.
Status, scholarship and a taste for antiquity
Why would a medieval owner go to the trouble of setting a much older gemstone into a new silver mount? Archaeologists suggest several overlapping motives.
The first is status. A Roman gem was not just pretty; it was exotic. It signalled access to far-reaching trade networks, wealth and a connection to ancient authority. In a society very conscious of rank, sealing a letter with such a stone sent a message about who you were.
Choosing a Roman gemstone likely signalled education, wealth and a deliberate nod to classical culture.
There is also a cultural angle. By the late Middle Ages, educated elites across Europe admired texts and imagery from antiquity. Reusing a Roman intaglio might hint that Richard, or the craftsman he hired, knew that this was an object from a very different time and valued it for exactly that reason.
Finds liaison officers suggest the gem may have been picked up from a Roman site nearby, traded as a curiosity, or inherited in a family collection of old items. Roman Britain left behind huge quantities of stone, pottery and metal, some of which resurfaced centuries later in medieval markets and workshops.
From field find to potential “treasure”
The Gosfield seal has now entered a formal legal process. Because it is made of silver and older than 300 years, it falls under the UK’s Treasure Act 1996. A coroner’s inquest will decide whether it counts as “treasure” in law. If so, it can be valued and offered to museums.
Braintree Museum in Essex has already expressed interest in acquiring the object. If the purchase goes ahead, the metal detectorist and the landowner will share any reward, and the seal will move from a field find to a public exhibit.
| Step | What happens |
|---|---|
| 1. Find reported | Detectorist records the object with the Portable Antiquities Scheme. |
| 2. Expert assessment | Specialists date and describe the artefact and advise if it may be treasure. |
| 3. Treasure inquest | A coroner decides if it meets the legal definition of treasure. |
| 4. Valuation | An independent committee sets a fair market value. |
| 5. Museum acquisition | Local or national museums can buy the object at the set price. |
How personal seals actually worked
For modern readers used to passwords and signatures, medieval seals can seem strange. Yet they served a similar purpose: proving that a document genuinely came from a particular person.
The owner would drip hot wax onto a folded letter or on a parchment strip and then press the metal seal into the wax. Once cooled, it created a raised image. Breaking that blob of wax visibly damaged the seal, so it also worked as a kind of tamper-evident closure.
Seals were both practical tools for securing documents and finely crafted status symbols worn on the body.
People at different social levels used different designs. Nobles might show coats of arms. Clergy might use saints or religious symbols. Merchants could use trade emblems or initials. A Roman racing scene is unusual on a medieval seal, which makes this find stand out even further.
Roman gems and medieval imagination
Reused Roman intaglios appear from time to time across Europe. In some cases, medieval viewers misread the original imagery. A Roman god might be interpreted as a saint. A mythological creature could be reframed as a heraldic beast.
With the Gosfield seal, the chariot is reasonably clear, but its meaning to Richard is lost. Did he see it simply as a stylish racing scene, or did it carry some personal symbolism — speed in business, victory, or a biblical allusion? That gap between what we can see and what they understood is part of what keeps archaeologists returning to such objects.
For anyone interested in visiting sites or museums, this seal also offers a practical route into British history. A trip to a local collection that displays seals, rings and gemstones can show how small objects carried big messages about identity, belief and ambition. Even a single centimetre-wide stone, reused after more than a thousand years, can still whisper that one man in medieval Essex wanted his affairs stamped, quite literally, as “Richard’s secret.”