guard at the ironworks, of Grunta
“I keep my head down and watch the carts, brother. I survived the mud last autumn, and that is enough.”
Things John had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Compline
Still no sign of our Easter wages, brother. The men are grumbling again. I keep patting my belt just to be sure I have something to my name, even if I cannot spend it yet. A man needs a level head when the coin runs dry.
Nota scribaeHe patted his pouch three times while dictating this.
the feast of St Florian, at Sext
Simon will not stop bleating about Thomas and the five groschen from that dead man's boot. Christ almighty, let it go. We all saw enough corpses last autumn. Five groschen is not worth bleeding for when you are already back home alive.
the Thursday after Easter, at None
The white smoke from the hearths is thick today, and the smelters are worse. Old John expects us all to bow, while young Thomas and Jan Milk-drinker are squabbling over a tin pitcher. Just noise and smoke, the lot of them.
That pitcher belonged to my late father Martin. It is not theirs to fight over.
Nota scribaeDictated coughing.
the Tuesday of Holy Week, at Vespers
William is riding young Jan too hard again. We all miss Michael, brother, but a night raid in the rain is a chaotic thing. Boys fall asleep. It is the war that killed him, not Jan. Grief is turning William cruel.
He slept while Michael bled. I will not forget it, and neither should you.
I swear to the Virgin I only closed my eyes for a moment. I just want to see my sister Anna again.
Nota scribaeThe younger guard mentioned here was weeping by the furnace.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Prime
Woke in a cold sweat again, dreaming of the executioner's block in Kuttenberg. We survived the Hungarian mercenaries, but the things we brought back from the mud might hang us yet. A man must be careful when he has a heavy burden in his pouch.
You worry too much, brother. Just find a man with loose coin and a blind eye.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
We agreed to split what we have, John. Do not make me wait until winter.
Patience, brother. The Kuttenberg magistrate has a long rope.