housekeeper at reznikuv Dum, of Bylany
“I keep a respectable house for an absentee master, even if the purse is entirely empty.”
Things Beatrice had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Ascension, at Vespers
If John does not return the copper serving jug he hid in his bedding, he will find himself sleeping in the road. The master's guildsman comes soon and I will not serve his ale in a wooden bucket.
Nota scribaeShe rubbed her eyes heavily while speaking this.
the second day of May, at None
Joan, I need my good iron needle back. My apron is torn and must be mended. And no, I will not carry another message to the merchants for your sister Avice. I want nothing to do with Kuttenberg.
Lord forgive me, I left it in a chest after I mended William's shirt. I will look for it.
the week after Easter, at Terce
I try to keep a quiet yard, but the shouting from next door is enough to wake the dead. William is fighting with Matilda over a broken churn again, and Thomas is doing nothing but leaning on a rake.
It is my churn and she broke it! Mind your own yard, Beatrice.
Nota scribaeDictated at the fence, over much noise.
Easter Monday, at Prime
The roads are clear enough, yet there is no sign of Drslav's wagons. He promised silver at Easter for the autumn wheat, and Easter has come and gone. The hired hand grows sullen, but work must be done regardless.
Come by for a cup of ale, Beatrice. It will calm your nerves.
Candlemas, at Prime
The stalls are empty of cattle, but the yard still needs sweeping. John drags his feet because the coin is scarce, as if that changes what a day's work is. I have a house to keep respectable.
A man cannot eat respectability, Beatrice.
Nota scribaeThe woman sighed three times before finishing.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Pay me my wages since Candlemas and you will have your jug back.