maidservant at the big estate, of Bylany
“I run the dairy and the kitchen here, like I have since the old master lived. The young master makes a mess of it all, but my hands do the work.”
Things Matilda had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at Terce
Three days past, I tripped on a loose paving stone and broke a wooden churn. Now the young master has snatched up my bone comb and won't give it back till I beg pardon and pay for his precious wood. I'll see the barn burn before I say I'm sorry for his crooked stones.
Nota scribaeDictated at the wash-bench. She was scrubbing so hard the water splashed my boots.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Thomas has been whining since dawn about wages he's owed since Candlemas. Christ almighty, the boy is soft as butter. William tells him it's the Kuttenberg merchant Drslav who holds up our coin, but I say William is just a fool with his father's ledger. We'll all be begging on the road by harvest.
the Monday before Palm Sunday, at Vespers
Served the pottage today and had to listen to Johanka weeping into her bowl again. Father Geoffrey wants his burial fee for her dead husband, and she shakes like a leaf every time the church bells ring. The man is dead, crying won't dig him up or pay the priest.
You have a stone where your heart should be. Father Geoffrey will damn my poor husband's soul.
Then let him be damned in peace while we eat our dinner.
Nota scribaeThe woman did not pause in her mending while speaking, jabbing the bone needle with great force.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Went next door to borrow a sieve and had to hear Joan prattle on about her sister Avice for an hour. Avice this, Avice that, the soldiers might take Avice's cart. The war is everywhere, but I've got milk to skim. If the Cumans come, they can churn the butter themselves.
It is wicked to speak so! God keep Avice safe from the Hungarians.
the eve of Candlemas, at Sext
The old master's ghost must be weeping to see the state of this dairy. My bones ache with the frost, but I am up before the sun to milk the beasts while the rest of them snore. William says we must tighten our belts this year. I've tightened mine so far it touches my spine.
The woods are freezing too, Matilda. The whole valley is shivering this winter.
Nota scribaeDictated in the dairy. It smelled strongly of sour milk.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You shattered a good churn, you clumsy fool. Pay for it or comb your hair with your fingers.
My brother carved that comb before the silver mines took him. Give it back, or I'll leave the cows to burst.