Liber Vultuum
Liber Vultuum, volumen Kuttenbergensefol. 8v
Portrait of Walter

Walter

hewer in the deep shafts, of Horany

“I break rock in the deep shafts, and I do it better than any of the younger lads. Saints' bones, it's hard enough just making sure Vitek puts my name on the slate.”

Quid vis scribi?The scribe is at Vespers. Come back after, and bring him a candle.

Dicta

Things Walter had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.

the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers

Heard the wooden timbers groaning today in the lower gallery. A man must eat, so I will go back down tomorrow, but saints' bones, the mountain is heavy. Let Vitek send Richard down first if he wants to test the roof.

  • Foreman Frank (no portrait was pasted in for this person)
    Foreman Frank

    The timbers always groan, Walter. Keep your pick moving and don't look up.

Nota scribaeDictated at the tavern. He kept touching his belt as he spoke.

the second day of Easter week, at Compline

Some men forget who walked with them from Maleshov. We found something in the mud, and a certain man thinks he can keep the whole profit. He had better hand over my groschen before I break his jaw.

  • Jezhek
    Jezhek

    I carry the risk of selling it, so I keep the coin. Drink your ale and shut your mouth.

  • Walter
    Walter

    Saints' bones, I will smash your teeth in if I don't see my share by Sunday.

the fourth Sunday of Lent, at None

Denis and Hugh are at it again over their hidden box of pennies. A man cannot even drink his cheap ale in peace. If they do not stop whining, I will take the box myself and spend it all.

  • Denis
    Denis

    You mind your own business, Walter. Hugh knows what he did.

Nota scribaeThe man was staring at his tankard the whole time.

St Gregory's day, at Prime

Stood outside the weigh-house before the sun came up. You have to keep your gear sharp or Vitek's boy will not call your name. The young diggers crowd too close. I gave Richard an elbow in the ribs so he learns his place.

  • Richard
    Richard

    My ribs are still bruised, you old bastard.

the day after Candlemas, at Terce

Simon the Ox is still bleating about Edmund. The man was dead in the mud. Dead men do not feel the cold, and letting good wool rot is a sin. I took his cloak because I was freezing.

  • Simon the Ox
    Simon the Ox

    He was still breathing, you whoreson. You stripped a dying man.

  • Walter
    Walter

    He was gone, Simon. You are a simpleton with nothing between your ears.

Nota scribaeHe spoke loud enough for the whole alehouse to hear.

From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.