The Coin’s Journey
Struck sometime between 1285 and 1314, during the reign of Philippe IV le Bel, this Double Tournois entered the medieval world at a time of profound political transformation and royal ambition. France, under Philippe’s rule, was moving toward centralized royal authority, with the crown asserting power over the nobility, the Church, and even foreign lands.
 
Freshly minted at a regional French workshop, your coin would have glinted with a subtle silver tone, despite its billon composition—a blend of base metals with traces of silver, reflecting both economic pressures and the kingdom's resourcefulness. Its design was unmistakably royal: the Châtel Tournois (castle emblem) flanked by fleur-de-lis, crowned by a cross, all signaling the divine right of kings and the strength of the monarchy. The obverse, simply inscribed PHILIPPVS REX, was a bold assertion of Philippe’s dominion, recognizable in marketplaces and courts alike.
 
This coin likely passed through the hands of merchants, innkeepers, blacksmiths, and farmers, changing owners in the shadow of gothic cathedrals, along cobbled lanes, or amid the muddy stalls of weekly markets. It may have bought two loaves of rye bread, a handful of salted fish, or a tankard of wine from a roadside tavern. To the average citizen, this coin wasn’t just money—it was the king’s mark, a daily reminder of who ruled France and who ensured their livelihood.
 
As political tensions flared between Philippe and the papacy, and as the suppression of the Knights Templar shocked Christendom, this little coin continued its quiet journey through everyday life. It witnessed the whispers of conspiracies, the tolling of cathedral bells, and the chants of monks debating loyalty and faith. It was part of an economy inching away from feudal chaos and toward a more modern kingdom, structured under the growing reach of royal bureaucracy.
 
Eventually, it was lost to time—perhaps dropped in a hayfield near a village inn, buried beneath the floor of a collapsing cottage, or sealed in a forgotten leather pouch tucked inside a stone wall.
There it remained, slumbering through the Hundred Years’ War, the rise of Joan of Arc, the fall of feudalism, and the birth of Renaissance France.
 
Rediscovery and Preservation
Centuries later, it was unearthed by a farmer or a metal detectorist—its surface weathered, its shine long gone, but its form and history intact. Cleaned and carefully preserved, its details once again speak: the cross, the lilies, the king’s name—all testifying to an age when faith, monarchy, and money were inseparable.
 
Now secured in a museum-grade mount, this Double Tournois is more than a relic. It is a survivor of medieval France’s golden and bloody age, a symbol of how power was wielded, displayed, and spent—not just by kings, but by the common people who carried these coins, lived by them, and lost them to the earth.
 
This coin is your connection to that world—an object that once pulsed with the life of the Middle Ages, now reborn into your hands, ready to tell its story for generations to come.