“Are we nearly there yet?” John wasn’t sure how many times his son had asked that question in the last 30 minutes, but at least he could now truthfully say they were nearly there.

“”Look over there” he said, can you see the entrance?” John asked. Declan screwed his eyes as he studied the scene, but all he could see was the steep grassy slope and the path leading further upwards.

So John led his boy into the fort. “We’ll stand on the walls” he said. They entered the ancient fortress and John carefully led Declan onto the ramparts.

Slowly Declan began to see the walls. They ran along the edge of the hill, curving upwards towards their destination, and yes sure enough there was the entrance just below them.

“I can see it!” he said. It was a stretch of imagination to re-create in his mind what once was here so many years ago, but he sat with his dad as they reconstructed the wall with their thoughts.

The walk was different now for Declan. It wasn’t just a steep hill they were climbing; he could feel that they were in a place where stories had actually happened. It was different to the castles he visited with his dad, because even though the castles were ruined they were at least identifiable and actual buildings you could walk through.

Here was different. It was older than a castle, and not even a ruin, but as his dad had told him, if you look carefully enough you can still see clues of what was once there. “when you find the clues, then you can uild the rest in your imagination” his dad had told him.

Now that imagination was on fire. He followed the base of the ancient ramparts, forgetting about his tired legs and grumbling hungry tummy. Finally the summit came into view, a pillar with a small cairn next to it. The wind began to pick up slightly as they approached the summit and the views from the south surfaced before them.

It was a mild wind which stroked them every now and then, then dropped leaving an almost eerie silence in this late summer afternoon.

They had the place to themselves.

“Let’s eat first” said Declan’s dad, as he led his son beyond a small pool towards the steep cliff on the south of the hill.

“It was from here that King Loth had his daughter Thenew thrown over the edge”. Declan peered down holding his dad’s hand “cool”. His dad had told him the tale and now it seemed like a pilgrimage to a holy spot. And indeed it was, for where they stood there was once a shrine to her, as she was venerated as te mother of the saintly St Kentigern. But that wasn’t really the story that had brought them up here.

“There’s our picnic spot” said Declan’s dad, pointing to a spot sheltered by a small nick of rock. It was perfect. They spread themselves as John opened his rucksack and laid out the food he had prepared. They were both hungry and they ate in uncharacteristic silence, enjoying the food as a reward for their effort in getting to the top.

John paused for a moment and watched his son as he chewed on large mouthfuls of sandwich. He was nine years old, it now seemed his features were changing almost daily as he was fast growing up. Moments like these are precious thought John. Declan finished the sandwich and his eyes scanned for the chocolate bar.

“Here” said his dad. No words, just a smile from his son, who unwrapped it and ate it delicately, unlike his sandwich. John poured out some precious coffee from his flask, while Declan gulped down the last of his juice. Good coffee in a wild place is a true luxury.

Once their feast was over and their stomachs finally satisfied they cleared up and began their exploration. They searched for signs of what once was. The flat hilltop once had perhaps 300 Celtic round houses on it, the homes of the Goddodin, who lived here in Roman times. From here Castle Rock on which Edinburgh castle was built is seen clearly, linking the two great fortresses of the tribe.

The Romans called these Celtic people the Votadini, and they seem to have survived the Roman period by co operation with the great empire to the south. But what had brought John and his son Declan to the summit of this relic of East Lothian’s volcanic past, was a story about treasure.

They had seen the treasure at the National Museum of Scotland. Museums can be a bit boring, things sitting in a glass case. But it’s the stories behind these things which make them jump at you. The fact that one of the most significant hoard of Roman treasure ever to have been found nearly 100 years ago close to their Haddington home was, as Declan thought, “really cool”.

But why was it buried here, and by whom? What was the treasure for? Declan had decided the best way to come up with the answer was to go to Traprain Law and investigate the place. And so his dad promised to take him, and here they were.

The treasure was silver, including coins and beautifully decorated items. But some of it was chopped up, including a large silver dish. Declan’s first thought was someone must have had a rage and smashed it up, but it’s not so easy to smash up metal. It was deliberately chopped up into sizes that weighed the same.

It was a shame that such beautiful items had been chopped up but they were probably given to the Votadini by the Romans in that form, as a kind of currency. It seems it was the weight of silver that was important rather than the decorative qualities of the pieces.

But what was the treasure for and why was it buried?

John didn’t know exactly where the hoard had been discovered so they roamed the hillside for ideas with is son. While they did so he pointed out the ancient landscape around them. Berwick Law, the distant Lomond Hills in the north, Lammermuirs to the south, and Pentlands and to the west. All of these hills once had forts and settlements.

Then they sat together and compared their thoughts.

“I think” said Declan “ it might have been a wedding present”

“Possibly” said his dad, “but why do you think it was buried?”

“Well… maybe because there was an argument and one of them decided to hide the silver from the other, just like mum used to hide the telly remote from you sometimes” .

John laughed and agreed that was quite possible.

“But I suppose we’ll never know for sure will we dad?”

“No son I don’t suppose we will”.

“Can we go now?” asked Declan.

“Of course” said his dad, slightly deflated, thinking his son had perhaps been disappointed by the quest.

“I’ll just phone mum to say we’re on our way back”

“Aw no, not just yet, can we go see the Loth Stone, where King Loth is buried and could you remind me of the story about how the shepherd killed him?”

His dad smiled. “Sure, but we’ll have to be quick, we can’t be late”.

When Declan arrived home, his mum asked if he’d had a good time and discovered the mystery of the treasure.

“Well, I did what dad suggested and tried to feel what the place was telling me and I came up with the idea that it was a wedding present that was later hidden after an argument”.

“Could be” she said, glancing at her ex- husband.

“Much better than McDonalds, it was the best day ever” he added, and hugged his dad goodbye.

For Declan, the treasure of Traprain Law is no longer an item in a glass cabinet. It is a memory from his childhood, shared with his dad.

Thank you to John for sharing this story. Names have been changed.