The old timbers proved to be stuck firm, and it took both men pulling as hard as they could to heave it out of its position. When at last the lid popped free, a dank musty smell swirled around their nostrils, making them step back for a moment.

Some of the other villagers clustered around, their curiosity heightened. The sun's rays, flowing over the blackened stone wall and striking part of the hole, revealed a glint of silver.

Alan knelt down and peered into the hole. "I'll be damned," he whispered. "It's a broadsword. And the hole goes back under the fireplace by the looks of it." He reached in and grabbed the blade of the sword, but there was some resistance.

A twist and a yank freed it, then he drew it out for all to see the once shiny blade, and firmly grasping the hilt, a skeleton hand, the tatters of a lace cuff still attached to it.