housekeeper at zelinarkin Dum, of Bylany
“I run the hearth here and keep the dirt out when I can, though it is a losing battle. I make sure my Robert and the boys across the lane do not starve.”
Things Cecily had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Prime
Robert cleared his throat this morning and my heart nearly stopped. I wrapped his neck in thick wool though he swore it was warm out. Saint Barbara is losing her patience with me, I know it. But there are soldiers on the road to Sedletz, how can a woman walk barefoot there now?
Nota scribaeShe whispered the latter part as if the walls were listening.
the third day of Easter week, at None
That boy Zdenyek refused a cup of ale again today. He is saving every groschen for a Kuttenberg longsword, as if a piece of steel will keep him warm at night. His poor mother Marushka would weep to see him so thin. I slipped him an extra crust when Gilbert was looking the other way.
the feast of Saint Benedict, at Vespers
I chased Gilbert out of my kitchen with the broom today. He hauls sacks hard enough, I will grant him that, but he tracks mud all over my clean flags like a blind ox. The yard is for mud, the kitchen is for eating. He still got a full bowl of cabbage soup, passed through the window.
The mud was half dry anyway, and a man needs to sit by a fire.
Nota scribaeDictated while vigorously scrubbing a pot. My robes are splashed.
the Wednesday after Saint Matthias, at Sext
Gilbert and Anthony the carter had a shouting row over a split grain sack right outside my door. Two grown men wailing like spoiled children. Anthony never wiped his boots when he came inside anyway. They marched him off to Prague with the levy and I say good riddance to him and his dirty boots.
Anthony was a blind fool who could not drive a cart straight. Good riddance indeed.
Candlemas, at Terce
Counted the cabbages and inspected the dried meat in the stores. We will manage until spring, God willing, if the hired hands do not eat us out of house and home. A joint of pork must be stretched until the bone is entirely bare this time of year. King Wenceslas himself could not stretch a pig further.
You run this house better than the King runs the realm, my dear.
Nota scribaeThe word she used for the hired hands was not fit for the church record.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You fuss too much woman, it was dust in my throat, not the plague.
I will walk with you when I have my sword. No cuman will touch us.