hired hand at the timber shed, of Grunta
“I drag the heaviest logs while the old men sit about grumbling. I am quick with my hands and do not deserve half the trouble I get.”
Things William had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Old Robert is weeping into his ale about his brother Standa in Prague again. The man spends every groschen on drink and whines about his missing work axe. If I worked as slow as him, I would just lie down and die of hunger.
Nota scribaeDictated at the chopping block. He would not stop fidgeting with a wood chip.
the feast of St Pancras, at Sext
Isabel is still bleating to everyone about her heavy shear-hook. I covered her shifts after Christmas when she was sick with the shivering fit! A man should be allowed to keep a hook for his heavy labour without being called a thief. It is fair payment.
It is my hook, William! I need it, and covering a shift does not give you permission to steal.
I am putting it to good use. You can have it back when the spring work is done.
Nota scribaeHe asked that this be written down so all would know his innocence.
the third day of Easter week, at None
George marched off with the levy to Kolin to face the Hungarians. I pray the Lord keeps him, or the Hungarians do, so long as he does not come back here handing out bloody noses for every little twig a fellow picks up. We can finally breathe in the shed.
George kept the peace. You are only glad he is gone because now nobody can stop your thieving hands.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Prime
The housemaids came down at dusk to count the firewood again. I always stack it with a fine wide hole in the middle so the pile looks twice the size. Mistress Lida never leaves her bed, so what she does not see will not dock my wages.
If she finds out, she will have us all thrown in the mud. And give me my knife back.
Candlemas, at Compline
I borrowed a fine steel drawknife off Andrew and a shear-hook from Isabel this morning. I swore on the Virgin Mary I would give them back by nightfall, but the timber is not half peeled yet. A man cannot work with his bare hands.
You swore you would bring it back by dusk! The job does not need my knife forever, you lazy whoreson.
Nota scribaeHe laughed when he swore he would return them.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Standa forgot him long ago. You are still a little magpie, William, and I am watching my bench.
If you took my axe I will break your neck, you little whoreson.