bathhouse maid at the certovka, of Certovka
“I haul the heavy buckets for the Certovka tubs and scour the silver hewers clean.”
Things Ellen had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Compline
I dragged a rake through the yard muck for two solid hours trying to find Elizabeth's brass cloak-pin. My boots are entirely ruined now, and I still have to stand in them tomorrow. But she wept so bitterly over it I couldn't just leave it in the mud.
the feast of St Pancras, at Vespers
Amice and I hauled enough water today to float a flatboat. She prays and hums while we work, which makes me feel ungrateful for groaning. But my shoulders ache down to the bone. At least I know I carry more buckets than anyone else in the yard.
The Lord gives us the strength we need for the day's toil. And you are very strong, Ellen.
Save your breath for the scrubbing, girls. The miners won't wash themselves.
Nota scribaeShe dictated this very loudly, as if still shouting over the noise of splashing tubs.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Master Edmund finally came down from the Italian Court to look at the gaping hole in our slates. He laughed at us. Told us to buy our own slates if we don't like the rain. I hope his own stone roof caves in on his fine bed.
I would gladly spit in his tight-fisted face if he ever shows it here again.
If you have the breath to complain, you have the breath to scrub faster. Do not test my patience, girl.
the Wednesday of the third week of Lent, at Terce
The early shift brought in shifts so caked in mine dust I had to use a double handful of lye soap. My knuckles are raw and cracked red. I asked Joan how hot the water should be to scour them clean, and she said hot enough to peel a pig.
And I was right, wasn't I? A silver hewer's dirt needs near-boiling water to shift.
Nota scribaeThe woman showed me her hands as proof. They were indeed cracked and bleeding.
Shrove Tuesday, at Vespers
We buried Madam Lida today. The lung fever took her, just as the heavy snows caved in the roof over my pallet. I have a bucket catching the drops, but my shins are soaked every morning. I am terrified of catching the same fever from this damp straw.
She was a harsh mistress, but she kept us fed and kept the worst men at bay. We will have to look out for each other now.
I laid some dried rosemary on her pauper's grave. May the Lord grant her peace.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You are too good to me, Ellen. I am so sorry about your boots.
Come to the taproom before you sleep, girl. I saved you a heel of bread and some leftover ale.