hired hand chopping timber, of Grunta
“I split timber and keep my head down. Honest work, though my guts are in a twist.”
Things Andrew had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Christ's wounds, my guts are tied in knots. It is a punishment for hauling logs on Easter, I know it. I need three chamomile flowers for a bitter tea, but I cannot leave the yard or Mistress Lida will dock my wage. Five groschen to anyone who fetches them.
Nota scribaeHe paused twice to press his hands to his belly, groaning pitifully.
the second Tuesday after Easter, at None
I miss George. Before he marched off to Kolin with the levy, there was order in the shed. He would give a swift cuff to the ear and things would be settled. Now the discipline is gone to rot, and a man cannot even find his own tools.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
I should have known better than to eat that pork, and worse to strip bark on the holy feast day. God sees us. The meat smelled of old damp, but a man must eat to swing an axe. Now I am paying for my sins with every swing.
If you have breath to complain to the clerk, you have breath to stack the oak.
It was not God, Andrew, just bad meat. Rest when you can.
the Wednesday of the third week of Lent, at Terce
A good steel drawknife costs a month of stripping logs. I only lent it for a single afternoon. Now every time I ask, there is some pathetic excuse about spring timber. I do not want a brawl, but a man needs his blade to earn his keep properly.
I told you, I just need it to finish peeling this last batch of elm. You will have it by Sunday.
You said that before St Matthias's day, William.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke very quietly, rubbing his jaw.
Candlemas, at Sext
William asked to borrow my best steel drawknife to peel some timber. I gave it over, for we must help each other in the shed, and the boy arrived with nothing last autumn. It is honest work we do here, and a sharp edge makes it lighter.
It is a fine blade, Andrew. It makes the bark peel like old skin.
Keep an eye on him. If he tries to keep it, tell me and I will box his ears.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I will look by the forest edge tomorrow, Andrew. You shared your rusted wedge with me when William took my shear-hook.
Do not let Lida's maids see you drinking it, or she will say you are too sick to work.