hired hand, of Grunta
“I am a working man owed silver by a boy. Me and my dog Butcher are the only ones worth a damn in this yard.”
Things William had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second Tuesday in May, at Vespers
The boy told me again today that there is no coin for wages. He swore on his father's grave! Old Peter used to pay us on the eve of every saint's day, and this whelp holds onto our groschen like a miser. Kurva, I would walk tonight if he hadn't threatened Butcher over those bloody birds.
Nota scribaeDictated from the loft. He jabbed his finger so hard it nearly struck the inkhorn.
the feast of St Philip and St James, at Sext
Sat on a bucket in the yard with Butcher. The dog is the only good company here. Lucy gave us root stew again. I am a grown man doing the work of two since the King's men took the draught horses, and I am fed like a child.
It is what we have in the larder, William. I cannot cook meat that is not there.
the Monday after Low Sunday, at None
Alice was screaming at John again today over some linen. I care nothing for their quarrels, but the noise of it ruins the afternoon. I was mending a harness and the racket made my head split. Just give us our silver, boy.
Easter Monday, at Prime
Easter is gone and still no coin. He promised us silver. I yelled it across the yard so they all heard. Benesh is trembling about his parish dues and I pity the old fool, but I have my own troubles. If not for Butcher, I would be on the road.
The priest will not wait forever, William. We are ruined.
Nota scribaeThe man shouted much of this toward the farmhouse windows.
the fourth day of Lent, at Compline
Butcher got loose and some fool neighbour says he killed their birds. Now John holds it over me. The dog is a hunter, it is his nature! I will not hear a bad word against him. We keep to ourselves, Butcher and me.
His nature will cost me silver I do not have, to pay off the neighbour. Keep him tied.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The birds were found dead, William. Keep that beast tied or I won't have to put him down, the village will do it.
He's a good dog. He wouldn't touch a bird if he wasn't starving on the thin porridge we get fed here.
Aye, old Peter would have paid us. But holding the grease is some justice, at least.