Pay Dirt

The Danish government deputized private detectorists to unearth artifacts buried in farm fields. Their finds are rewriting the country's history

- ELIZABETH ANNE BROWN

Kristen Nedergaard Dreioe (left) and Marie Aagaard Larsen (right) swing their metal detectors over a field where grain is typically grown in southern Denmark.

OLE GINNERUP SCHYTZ, an engineer in Denmark's sleepy Vindelev agricultural area, had used a metal detector only a handful of times when he found a bent clump of metal in a friend's barley field. He figured it was the lid from a container of tinned fish and tossed it in his junk bag with the other bits of farm trash that had set his metal detector beeping: rusty nails, screws, scrap iron. A few paces away he dug up another shiny circle. Someone had clearly enjoyed a lot of tinned fish here—into the sack it went. But when Ginnerup found a third metal round, he stopped to take a closer look. Wiping the mud from its surface, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with a Roman emperor. At that point he had to admit “they weren’t food cans,” Ginnerup recalls with a chuckle.

After a brief intermission for an online Teams meeting for work that December day in 2020, Ginnerup dug up 14 glittering gold disks—some as big as saucers—that archaeologists say were buried about 1,500 years ago, during a time of chaos after ash clouds from a distant volcanic eruption created a miniature ice age. Four medallions feature Roman emperors, and several bear intricate geometric patterns. But the real showstopper is an amulet called a bracteate with two stylized designs: a man in profile, his long hair pulled back in a braid, and a horse in full gallop. An expert in ancient runes says she was awestruck when she finally made out the inscription on top: “He is Odin’s man.”