blacksmith's man, of Grunta
“I haul coal and iron until I cannot stand, and I drink to make my back stop hurting. I want no part of soldiers or their wars.”
Things Zdenyek had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after St John Before the Latin Gate, at Vespers
I saw Captain Welvara strutting by the sixth gate again, his mail shining. A man gets paid to stand there looking important, while I break my back hauling scrap for the forge. They talk of drawing names for the town watch. Let them take William the farmer. He likes playing lord, let him carry a spear.
Nota scribaeHe muttered something else about the bailiff, but asked me not to write it down.
the eve of Philip and James, at Compline
The master says I smell like a brewery. I told him it's the only thing that keeps my arms moving the bellows. A man needs something to wash the taste of soot from his throat. Anyway, poor Christopher did not drink, and look what good it did him.
If you drop another hot shoe because your hands are shaking, I will tan your hide myself.
Your brother was a good lad. But drink won't bring him back from that ditch.
Nota scribaeThe man was swaying as he spoke this.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Went down to the roadside cross today. Put a stone there for Christopher. Three years since the bloody flux took him. He went for silver and got dirt. Now the bailiff is asking names again. I have no silver to give him. I am a strong man, I can lift an anvil, but I will not go.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Sext
There was a cart from Kuttenberg today with more talk of the King's brother and his army. Cumans, they say. I do not care if they are devils from hell, so long as they stay away from Grunta. I wiped my hands on my breeches until they bled just thinking of the drum.
If they come here, we will need every man on the wall. Even you.
I am a woodcutter and a coal-hauler! I know nothing of walls or fighting!
Nota scribaeHe kept looking over his shoulder toward the door.
Candlemas, at Vespers
A cold night in the shed. The old horseshoes are no softer than they were yesterday. Zdimir worked me like a mule today. The fire was so hot I thought my skin would blister off. At least it is too cold for the army to march.
You sleep out of the wind, don't you? Stop your whining and be ready before dawn.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Watch your tongue, boy. A strong back like yours would serve well on the watch.
Saint Vitus preserve me! I am but a poor tired smith's man, Captain. I meant no offence.
I work my own land, Zdenyek. I have no time for your tavern grumbling.