maidservant at the timber yard, of Grunta
“I keep my head down and do my work. There is too much shouting here and not enough honest labour.”
Things Isabel had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at None
Andrew is still pale as a ghost from that bad pork at Easter. He can barely stand to hold his drawknife. It is hard enough stripping bark with my hands cracked and bleeding, without doing his share too. I wish George were here. He would have knocked some sense into the lot of them.
Nota scribaeShe rubbed her hands constantly while speaking and spoke so softly I had to lean in.
the second day of May, at Vespers
Robert and Matilda are screaming at each other again. He wants his work axe back, and she wants her ten groschen for mending his clothes and paying his ale tab. I do not blame her one bit, but my head aches from the noise. I am staying out in the yard until Compline.
the third day of Easter week, at Terce
Mistress Lida sent the kitchen maids to count the stacked wood again. I stacked it three times to be sure it was perfect. The last time I dropped a clay pot she took a week's wage, and I am terrified she will cast me out to starve if the count is short by a single twig.
The miserable crone has not left that bed in years. You worry too much.
It is easy for you to say. You have Robert's axe to sell if you go hungry.
Nota scribaeDictated in the yard. The woman kept looking nervously toward the main house.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Prime
I lit another candle at the cross for George today. He marched off with the levy to Kolin and we have heard nothing. The workshed is going to ruin without his heavy fists to keep the peace. Some people think they can just take what is not theirs now.
the Monday after St Valentine, at Sext
William still has the heavy shear-hook I lent him at Candlemas. It cost me a month of sweat to buy. He says he is keeping it because he covered my shift when I was sick, but that is a lie. I just want it back, but I do not have the courage to fight him.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My belly is a battlefield, Isabel. Leave the logs, I will get to them when the cramps pass.
George is gone, so stop your crying. If Andrew cannot work, he should not eat.