miner pushing ore carts, of Horany
“I push the heaviest ore carts in Horany and drink my share, let the miserable sods whine.”
Things Wenceslas the Horse had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after Ascension, at Vespers
Foreman Vitek sent his boy to pick the hands this morning. I stood tall and grinned, showing God's own shoulders. Pushed carts till my back ached, but the ale tastes sweeter for it. A man must work hard to drink hard.
Nota scribaeDictated at the tavern. He rubbed his chin constantly and smelled strongly of cheap beer.
the feast of St Florian, at Compline
Hugh is a bitter old fool. He started shouting again about the militia camp at Maleshov and poor Andreas. The mud was up to the axles! No man could have freed that wagon. Andreas died because the camp air was foul, not from my doing.
You were drunk, you fat whoreson. You left him to freeze in that tent while you slept in the dirt.
We were both supposed to watch him. I only shut my eyes for a moment.
You fell asleep instead of fetching the barber, Richard! Do not put this on my wagon.
the third day of Easter week, at None
The bread is dearer than ever and the King's silver buys less ale. But a man must eat to haul rock. Jezhek lost Roger's good coat at dice last night, which was a fine laugh until the yelling started.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Daniel Littlehead keeps bleating about his spare spade. I broke my tool on Saint Blaise's day and kept his, ay. But he owed me for three jugs of ale from Martinmas. The spade sits by my bed and we are squarely settled.
You are a thief, Wenceslas! Three jugs of swill does not buy an iron spade. Give it back.
A spade is a spade. Just keep it and let him weep.
Nota scribaeThe man shouted this declaration so loudly the dogs in the street began to bark.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Terce
The soldiers on the roads make bringing in grain harder, so the widow watered down the stew again. I still ate two bowls. A miner needs his strength if he is to haul more rock than the young lads.
The stew is mostly cabbage water now. It is an absolute disgrace.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You talk too much, Wenceslas. Save your breath for the wheels.