ore sorter at the mine, of Horany
“I sort the dark silver from the useless stone and keep my head down. A man with a sharp memory goes less hungry.”
Things Daniel Littlehead had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at None
Vitek's boy picked me for the slate today because my pick was sharp. Simon the Ox was passed over again. He says it is bad luck, but luck has nothing to do with it. You must tend to your tools.
Nota scribaeHe spent some time cleaning his fingernails before speaking.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
I saw Richard drinking his fill at the alehouse today. A man should pray for the dead at Easter, not drown himself. Poor Andreas died in the mud at Maleshov while Richard was too lazy to fetch the barber.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Sext
Men say bread is dearer because of the King's brother and his soldiers on the roads. I care little for kings, but I care much for the cost of a loaf. A penny buys less every week.
Ay, the widow's stew is thinner than river water lately.
Nota scribaeDictated in a low mumble.
the eve of St Matthias, at Prime
It is bitterly cold this morning. I am glad I have my own cloak. Up in heaven Edmund has no need of his, which is fortunate, since Walter took it off him before his corpse was even stiff.
He was dead, Daniel. The living need wool more than the dead.
Nota scribaeThe speaker tallied something on his fingers as he spoke.
Saint Blaise's day, at Compline
I lent my spare spade to Wenceslas the Horse this morning out of Christian charity so he could work. Now he says he is keeping it for an old debt of three jugs of ale. Stealing a man's tool is stealing his bread.
You drank my ale at Martinmas and never paid, Daniel. The spade makes us even.
Three jugs of ale do not equal an iron spade. If someone would fetch it back for me, I would pay a groschen.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My pick is perfectly fine, Daniel. Vitek just likes your face better.
A blunt iron breaks no rock, Simon. I will show you how to hone it tomorrow.