bathhouse servant and alchemist, of Certovka
“I am a scholar of alchemy trapped doing menial toil until my great work is finished.”
Things Joseph Thatcher had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at None
That disgraced monk Basil must stop looking for his silver cup. I melted it down weeks ago for my calcination experiments. It is gone. He should repent in the beggars' camp and leave scholars to their work.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed soot on his face while speaking, though there was no fire.
the second day of Easter week, at Vespers
I hid behind the woodpile for an hour to escape John. He wants me to write another letter to his mother Mary in Prague. Does he think I have parchment to waste? My hands are needed for the transmutatio, not his whining.
It would only take a moment, Joseph. She does not know if I am alive.
Nota scribaeDictated from behind the woodpile.
the Wednesday before Easter, at Prime
I have finally secured the funds for a new alembic and pure charcoal from Prague. A certain merchant paid good silver groschen for a heavy cup I found. The Hungarians have made bread dear, but science must continue.
A fair trade, apothecary. I ask no questions and you ask for no more coin.
the feast of St Gregory, at Compline
Hauling water all day ruins my hands for delicate work. I mixed a poultice for a miner's flux, but the master still will not give me a whole candle. How can I uncover the philosopher's stone in the dark?
You nearly burned the roof down last week with your stone-making, Joseph.
Nota scribaeHe smelled strongly of sulfur and unwashed linen.
Candlemas, at Sext
My purse is empty and the glass I need costs more than a month's sweeping. I am crafting a wooden box today. It is a theoretical demonstration of how lead might turn to gold. I will show it at the alehouse.
I saw a fool with a box of gilded lead. A child's trick, plainly.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You lied to me, Joseph! Superior Bynyek will see us both hang for that altar silver!
Quiet down, the both of you. Memento mori.