9 A Universe in a Grain “Why do we make the first page so beautiful?” “I do not understand your question, my son,” said Eadfrith. “I mean that the words are the words, whether they are decorated or not.” “Ah yes, the words are the words.” Eadfrith smiled and thought about an argument he had had with a sort of vagabond monk from the east, who wanted to rub out every image of Christ or Mary he could find. The man’s order had driven him out, and now he wandered around the world like Satan, looking for jobs to spoil. “Imagine you are bringing good news to a village, that the Danes have been wrecked on the sea, and the people’s houses and farms will not be burned down, and their womenfolk and children will be safe. Would you bring that news with a frown?” “No!” said the boy, laughing. “Would you dress in black,” said Eadfrith, turning from his work with a mock-grimace, “and mumble your news like this,” and he did a wonderful impersonation of a tragedian, groaning. “I would dress in red and gold, and I’d come in dancing!” said the boy. “So we dress the Good News in red and gold, and come in dancing,” said the bishop.
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy NzMzNzY=