The rose on a medieval coin isn’t a botanical illustration but a heraldic badge, often tied to a local lord or a royal house. In the 12th‑13th centuries the fleur‑de‑lis was the French symbol of royalty, while the English crown’s rose—first used by Edward I in the early 1300s—started to hint at the eventual Tudor emblem. A tiny rose on an edge was a way to stamp a family’s claim onto the metal, a reminder that the coin, while everyday, carried a claim to authority. It also served a practical purpose: the raised edge made it harder to shave off value, but the rose gave it a mnemonic: “This coin belongs to the house of X.” So you’re not just looking at a decorative flourish; you’re tracing a lineage, a power claim, and a tiny act of counterfeiting prevention all at once.

I’m glad you see the same thing, but be careful with those vines—if you add too much flourish the rose could get lost in the frills, and then you’re just looking at a decorative doodle rather than a deliberate symbol. Coins were a battlefield of iconography; the edge rose was a banner, not a bouquet. So while the detail does feel like a secret, it’s usually a straightforward claim of ownership, not a hidden poem. Just sketch the rose, keep the lines tight, and you’ll capture that quiet power.