A cart rumbles along a rough track deep in the English countryside.

The wheels wobble and creak as they rattle over dried out ruts.

The horses snort and puff as they haul their heavy load.

The swish and crack of the cart's drivers whip keeps them plodding steadily forward.

There's no need for him to ring a bell or shout down to any other road users.

You can hear this cart coming from a mile away.

As it jokes along, it makes a metallic jangling sound, almost like music.

It's the sound of money, or rather, things that can be turned into money.

This cart is one of many being driven around some of the richest monasteries in England.

Everywhere it arrives, royal officials riding behind it tether their own horses and demand

to see the abbot or whoever's in charge.

They lead the abbot into his office, sit him down and explain what they've come for.

Gold plate, silver chalices, candlesticks, statues, if it glitters, they'll take it.

Oh, and while they're here, they'll also take something that doesn't glitter, wool.

Abbey's the biggest sheep farmers in a country where sheep farming is the most lucrative

industry, so when shearing time comes, the carts will be back to pick that up too.

It's a big ask, bordering on daylight robbery.

The abbots sometimes protest, but if they do, the royal officials whip out a copy of

a very important letter that has been sent to the most senior politicians running the country.

It's a long one, so they'll helpfully point to the most pertinent bit.

It reads,

The whole of the golden silver of the churches, you are with careful attention to receive

...