huntsman of Bylany, of Bylany
“I mind my snares in the woods and bring down fowl for the market. I keep my head down and my catch quiet.”
Things Adam had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
That massive sack of goose feathers is still sitting in the barn. If young Lord Thomas wants them, he can bring ten groschen. I did not spend hours plucking those filthy birds to be cheated. I am holding fast to my price.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted twice by his looking over his shoulder at the door.
the second Tuesday of May, at Terce
William is forever asking where the market silver goes when I come back from town. Sakra, a man must have something of his own. The birds I drop on the table should be enough for him and Joan. I will have my own holding by Saint Martin's Day.
the Wednesday after Easter, at Prime
The woods are quiet this morning. Found two hares in the traps before the sun was fully up. If the bailiff's men were half as sharp as they think they are, I might worry, but they could not track a bleeding boar through fresh snow.
the feast of St Gertrude, at Sext
Saw Godfrey down by the vineyards today. Still sour as bad wine about his time with the militia levy. I pity him his misery, but I had no time to stand and listen to it. I have my own silver to worry about.
You would be sour too if you had marched where I marched. The roads are not your quiet little woods.
Nota scribaeHe spoke quietly, with his hands tucked tightly into his belt the whole time.
the Monday after Candlemas, at None
Lord Thomas sent word he needs feathers, a vast heap of them. He must be stuffing a dozen beds at his manor. It will be filthy work, but the young lord's coin is as good as any. I will need to hide the silver carefully from my brother.
Hide what silver? If you are making coin off the lords, you can finally pay for your keep.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Ten groschen for feathers? I only need them for a jest, man. Keep your filthy sack.
What feathers, Adam? What are you hiding in my barn now?