John

the Friday before Whitsun, at Compline

Dragged another three wine-soaked Hungarians out of the cooling tubs tonight. They leave their heavy armour everywhere and piss in the water. I swear by Saint Wenceslas, I despise their lack of manners. If they drown, that is their own lookout.

Nota scribaeDictated in the yard while the man wiped his wet hands repeatedly on his breeches.

the third day of Easter week, at Sext

Master Joseph Thatcher came by to wash the herb smell off his skin. I asked him again if he rides south soon. He says he only goes north to Kolin. I don't understand why he cannot just take my message to Betty on his way.

• 
  Joseph Thatcher

  John, I have told you a dozen times. Kolin is not on the way to the south. It is the opposite direction entirely.

• 
  John

  But you have a horse, Master Joseph! It would not take you long to just find her and tell her I am well.

the Thursday before Palm Sunday, at None

The charcoal burners are too frightened of the woods to bring cheap loads, so I must guard the woodpile all night. Ay, the woodpile. I keep my axe close. If I lose my saved pennies, I will never hire a proper courier to find my brother Prokop.

the second Wednesday in Lent, at Terce

Hauling river water today with these heavy oak buckets. The yoke is rubbing my shoulders raw. At least my patched boots keep the worst of the mud out. Holy Mother, the master bought green wood again, but I'll keep the water boiling. I always keep it boiling.

Nota scribaeHe spoke quickly and repeated the part about his boots three times before I stopped him.

Candlemas, at Prime

Three winters now since I walked north from the village. I wonder if Mother's wet cough is worse with this frost. A carter said the levy took Prokop, but I do not believe he is dead in some skirmish. He is alive, ay. I just need to send word.