butcher's wife of Bylany, of Bylany
“I keep the house for Master Roger and try to keep everyone fed. It is a heavy burden, but I bear it with a smile.”
Things Lucy had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Sext
The price of flour creeps up again. I stood an hour in the yard watching Christine and Edith scrub the pits. I smiled the whole time, though my back aches so fiercely I thought I might weep into the tallow.
Nota scribaeThe woman rubbed her lower spine the entire time she spoke, sighing heavily.
the eve of St George, at Compline
Roger counted out the copper pennies from his strongbox for Master Havel today. He paces the floorboards all night and will not speak of the debt. I only wish the house to be at peace and my husband to sleep.
Do not prattle of my strongbox to the scribe, woman. The burgher will have his due.
Master Havel's greed means there is no coin for new scrub brushes either.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Isabel has taken Mary's old butchering knife to keep it from being pawned. It has thrown Roger into a terrible rage. I am caught in the middle again, trying to calm a storm I did not start.
It is my mother's knife! You would have sold it to pay Havel, just as you try to erase her memory.
I never said to sell it, child. You spit on my kindness.
Nota scribaeShe asked that the word 'stolen' be struck out and replaced with 'taken'.
the second Friday of Lent, at Vespers
Vashek hauled the carcasses today. He takes twice as long as the other hands, but I do not scold him. He knows how to lift the heavy iron pots for me when the weather bites and my old pains return.
We do what we must, mistress. The cart on the Kuttenberg road broke us both, but we still have to eat.
Candlemas, at Terce
I have sat at the heavy oak table since morning, staring at the ledger. Mary kept the numbers perfectly, God rest her soul, but the columns will not balance for me. At least my aprons are clean.
The numbers never balance lately, mistress. And Julian ran off to Prague, which makes Isabel even fouler.
Nota scribaeDictated in the butcher's yard. The woman forced a very bright, unconvincing smile.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You watched us right enough, mistress, but you didn't lift a single bucket yourself.
I oversee the work, Christine. That is my station now.