guard at the storehouse, of Bylany
“I stand the watch at the storehouse door across the lane. I am saving for a proper Kuttenberg longsword so I might find service with a retinue and leave this village.”
Things Zdenyek had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after St John Before the Latin Gate, at Vespers
The old soldier from Kuttenberg was seen in the tavern yesterday, talking to a man from the silver mines. If he sells that longsword before I can find another eight groschen, I will be stuck leaning on this wooden spear until I am old. A spear is no weapon for a professional man-at-arms anyway.
Nota scribaeHe tapped his belt constantly while speaking, though nothing hangs there.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
I stopped at the wayside cross this morning to say a prayer for my mother Marushka. It has been three winters since the fever took her. Once I have my sword and a place in a lord's retinue, I will pay the priest to sing a proper mass for her soul.
She was a good woman, Zdenyek. She would be proud to see you working hard, sword or no sword.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at None
The merchant who owns this storehouse has not shown his face since the snow melted. He leaves the entire duty on my shoulders. It is well enough, for it leaves me in peace, but he had better send my wages. I need every penny if I am to march out of here.
Aye, he leaves me hauling the heavy sacks alone too. My back is killing me and the master cares naught.
Nota scribaeDictated from the doorway. He refused to step inside.
the eve of St Gregory, at Compline
I stacked a cord of firewood in Cecily's yard after my shift. Her cabbage soup is the best in Bylany, and she charges us far less than it is worth. The least a man of honour can do is make sure her hearth stays warm.
Thank you for the wood, lad. Robert was resting, so your help was a blessing. Eat as much soup as you want.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
Anthony drove his cart right over a patched sack of grain in the lane. Gilbert yelled himself hoarse at him, and Anthony screamed right back. Now Anthony has marched off to Prague with the king's levy, and Gilbert is still complaining about it. Anthony was a blind fool, but all this shouting serves nothing.
He ruined good grain! The man could not drive a cart if the horse told him where to go. Good riddance.
If that old sack was not left in the middle of the road, my horse would not have stepped on it.
Nota scribaeThe word he used for Anthony was not 'fool', but I will not write the other.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
A longsword is no use in a doorway, lad. You need room to swing the bloody thing. Keep the spear.
A spear is for peasants. I know what I am about, Gilbert.