hired hand at the yard, of Grunta
“I am a bloody good driver and I work hard for my groschen, hauling timber and feed. I just want a bit of respect and for the new priest to leave me be.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The new priest looked right at me after Mass. He says he will read my name from the pulpit before St John's Day if I do not pay my penance arrears. Sakra, where does he think I hide my coin? Under the ox dung? Nobody will lend me a penny.
Nota scribaeDictated in the yard. He waved his hands so wildly he nearly knocked over the ink.
the eve of St George, at None
Frantishek is a stubborn old fool. The wood on that timber cart was completely rotted through! It would have broken under a feather. He blames me for the axle snapping on the dirt road, so I am keeping his pot of wheel grease. Bloody hell, I am the best driver in Grunta.
You drove it straight into a deep rut, you blind lad! Give me back my grease.
The grease will not mend the axle, lads. Let it rest.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
If Isabel feeds us this watery pottage one more night, I will waste away to bone. I spend the whole day hauling feed and breathing dust. A working man needs meat in his belly, not cabbage water.
You eat what I put in the bowl, lad, or you can starve up in the loft.
the second Friday of Lent, at Terce
John jumped out of his skin today when a plank dropped in the yard. He thinks Tuma the clerk is coming from Kuttenberg to drag him to the levy. I told him the soldiers do not want a snivelling coward anyway.
You will not be laughing when the King's brother sends his men down the road.
Candlemas, at Sext
Poor Father Peshek is in the ground. The flux took him fast. He was a gentle soul who understood a poor lad's troubles and did not press a man for coin he did not have. May the Lord keep him.
He was a good man who knew our hardships. Up in heaven he will not have to cough anymore.
Nota scribaeHe wiped his nose on his sleeve three times during the telling.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Maybe if you drank less ale, you could pay the church, Thomas.
Shut your mouth, John, before I tell Tuma the clerk exactly where you sleep.