hewer at the Horany works, of Horany
“I swing a pick down in the Horany works. I can pull more silver ore from a shaft than any three men in this camp.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at None
Christ's wounds, the bailiff rides up to the works tomorrow to look at the militia gear. I rubbed my hands together and smiled at him, but it did no good. William is sweating through his shirt. I need silver before Compline or there will be the devil to pay.
Nota scribaeHe asked to borrow a groschen from me. I declined.
the feast of St Pancras, at Vespers
Martin docked my wages again for coming up late from the shaft. I broke three times the rock of any other man today, but the overseer only sees his tallies. At least Isabel had a warm bowl of cabbage waiting at the timber hall.
Eat your cabbage and be quiet. And wash the dust off your face before you sit at my table.
Martin would dock a saint for praying too loud. Come drink, I will buy the first round.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
They say the King's brother has Cumans marching on the roads, stealing everything that is not nailed down. I reckon they would turn back if they had to spend one shift down in the Horany dark. We have our own devils in the rock to worry about.
Leave the politics to the lords, Thomas, and keep your pick moving.
Nota scribaeDictated while chewing a crust of dry bread.
the fourth Sunday in Lent, at Terce
A man works honest hours, but the silver vanishes into thin air. That grasping crone Agnes by the Kuttenberg square has something of mine, and I swore to William I would redeem it. Christ's wounds, a man cannot save a penny when the ale costs so dear.
It is not yours, Thomas! It is my padded jack, and you had no right to give it to a pawnbroker!
You drink your silver before you even earn it. Do not blame the widow for your own thirst.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
The ale-wife said she would have my thumbs broken for my slate, so I had to make a hard choice. I am whole, and my hands can still hew rock. William will understand once I get my next pay and fetch his gear back.
Understand what? Thomas, where is my jack? The drill is coming!
Nota scribaeHe smiled broadly while dictating this, though his hands shook.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You promised you would get the jack back from that crone Agnes! They will flog the skin off my back, Thomas!
Keep your voice down, lad. I am working on it. Have faith.