Life settled into a routine of writing, illustrating and family life after my return from Pictland. My father, in his inimitable patient style of working, began poring over the cover of the Vita Sancti Cuthberti. The crimson goat leather made an excellent backdrop for the rose-pink freshwater pearls I had procured and the petal-form frame destined to house the ivory plaque of Christ in Majesty was bewitchingly attractive.
Vita Sancti Cuthberti. The brief journey to Hexham and the carver’s fee paid, saw me return with a box stuffed with linen packets to protect the intricate work of the master craftsman, who had produced plaques in relief worthy of our king. My father was so in awe that he told me,
“Aella, I have the clumsy hands of an old man,” which was untrue because no youth could hav
