Black and grey shaded Celtic triquetra knot enclosing a heart, tattooed at the base of the back of the neck, with a dangling earring visible beside it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Celtic triquetra with heart on the neck

Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A shaded black and grey tattoo of an interlaced Celtic triquetra, with a small heart sitting at the bottom point of the knot. The linework is smooth and the grey shading gives the knot some depth, with soft fading around the edges. The tattoo is centred on the nape of the neck, photographed from behind so only the back of the head, an ear and a dangling earring are visible.

Neck Triquetra Celtic knot Trinity knot Heart Knot Ear Earring

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Snow had buried the lane to the top of the gatepost by four o'clock, and Marjorie Quayle still hadn't finished the bell rope. Three strands of old tarred hemp hung from the hook above the taproom fire, and she worked them the way her mother had taught her, over, under, back through, until the knot would take a man's weight and not give. Outside, the wind pushed at the shutters. Inside, the coachman's dog had its nose in the hearth ash and the two travellers from Kendal were arguing about whether the pass would open by morning.

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The rope had been Jack Tennant's idea, years back, when he was still the carrier and came up the valley every Thursday. He had watched her mother tie the same three-cornered knot over the stable door and said it looked like something the old monks would have carved on a grave. Her mother had laughed and said it was for keeping three things together that would otherwise come apart. Marjorie had never asked which three things. She suspected there had been a heart at the bottom of it once, scratched on a slate and buried under the flags.

Near midnight the bell rang on its own. Everyone looked up. It was only the rope swinging in the draught, and the knot held, but the cup of cold tea she had left on the sill went over. Marjorie picked up the strands again, wiping her hands on her apron, and found that the middle loop had worked loose where she had pulled too hard.

She sat with it a long time. Then she reworked the bottom point, tucking the last end down into the centre where the loops crossed, and tied it off with a small hard knot the size of a seed. When the pass opened at dawn she carried the rope out into the blue light and hung it above the door, and the bell gave one clear note that carried all the way down to the frozen beck.