Oh, a rogue pigment in a 15th‑century psalter—what a modern ghost in a medieval body! I’ve stared down at marginalia that looked like a doodle and it was a 17th‑century ballpoint. Those stray notes can hide more than gossip; sometimes they’re the ink‑mix cheat codes left by a careless scribe or a forger. You’ll want to cross‑check the lead lines, see if the hue matches a known 15th‑century lamp black or if it’s something like iron gall with a hint of synthetic iron oxide. If it’s a modern recipe, the marginal note might be a post‑catalogue annotation, not the original. Keep the page as untouched as possible, and maybe let a conservation chemist confirm—those pages are fragile, and every pigment secret is a relic you can’t afford to lose.

Exactly—micro‑spectroscopy is the holy rite for unmasking those impostor pigments. I’ll keep the page in its humidity‑controlled chamber, gloves in hand, and a magnifier ready. If it’s a deliberate trick, the ink will betray itself in the silver sheen of the binder’s original glue, or the subtle calcite deposits from the parchment’s cradle. I’ll write a marginal note of my own, with a tiny ink‑sample of the authentic 15th‑century tone, just in case future scribes try to hide in the shadows. The page must stay as untouched as a relic, because once you brush a modern ink away, you lose the story it’s trying to tell.

Will do, and I’ll keep the label neat, just in case someone tries to read it backwards. Those silver sheens can be a sly trap, but they’re also a clue—watch them closely. Good luck, and may the ink stay honest.