guard at the perimeter, of Suchdol
“I lean on a spear and watch the rain fall on Suchdol.”
Things Julian had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after St Mark, at Vespers
The wind from the north is biting today. Geoffrey took the heavy lifting for the supply cart so I wouldn't have to show how much my fingers were shaking. I owe him a drink. If my left hand stays this crooked, they'll turn me out to starve before harvest.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Lambert is still sour about what happened on the road. He says it was my fault the wagon slipped the ditch. How was I to hold the rope tight when the mud was to our knees and my hand wouldn't close? I just want him to shut his mouth about it.
You let it slip. My boots are still ruined. You could have braced it with your shoulder at least.
And end up in the mud with the axle? I did what I could, Lambert.
Nota scribaeHe kept his left hand firmly in his belt the entire time he spoke.
Laetare Sunday, at Sext
Walter and I played dice behind the armory to pass the watch. He won four groschen off me, the bastard. Still better than standing out in the damp and thinking about the trouble to the north. They say bread is twice what it was last year in Kuttenberg.
I'll let you win it back tomorrow, if you stop shivering so much you shake the table.
the Friday after Ash Wednesday, at None
I cannot stop thinking about the skirmish last autumn. Roger acts like nothing happened. He knows full well why that poor lad didn't come back with us. He expects us all to keep a sharp eye, but where was his when we needed it? I just want to hear him say it.
Mind your own watch, Julian. The road took him, not me. Hold your spear tighter and keep your eyes front.
Nota scribaeThe speaker lowered his voice considerably for this entry, glancing around the yard.
Candlemas, at Terce
The cold today is fierce. The old break from that farmer's cudgel is aching so hard I could barely pull my gambeson on. I wish to God I had a poultice that actually worked. A warm fire would do, but we stand out here freezing instead.
I told you to rub it with goose fat. It keeps the damp out, at least.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep it wrapped, lad. And stop talking about it where the captain might hear.
I try to keep it under my cloak, but Roger looks at me like he knows.