Philip

the Wednesday before Whitsun, at Vespers

I sent another petition to Casper at the Italian Court. The roof is still open to God's rain. A man works, a man freezes, and the clerks toast their feet by the fire while my letters burn.

• 
  Casper

  The town has no silver for complaining catchpoles. Stand in the dry half.

• 
  Jarda

  They won't send the silver for the roof, just like they won't send my thirty groschen.

Nota scribaeThe man sighed heavily before every sentence and pointed at the sky with his chin.

the eve of St George, at None

I have claimed the far side of the brazier. If anyone tries to move my boots, there will be blood. A fatal chill took old Bynyek three winters ago, and I won't follow him into the ground just because the town is too cheap to fix a leak.

the third day of Easter week, at Prime

A fierce spring gale last night tore half the thatch off the tollhouse and cracked the timbers. The rain falls right on my pallet. I will not spend my own groschen to fix the town's property. We wait for Kuttenberg to send a carpenter.

• 
  Jarda

  My father Bynyek warned me about this. You work, and they let you rot in the wet.

• 
  Philip

  Grab some mud and help patch the worst of the leaks instead of pacing.

the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Sext

The lad will not stop whining about his pay. Yes, the muster rolls are locked. Yes, the Hungarian soldiers are on the roads. But a man endures it. He paces a hole in the dirt every hour of the day.

• 
  Jarda

  I was promised my discharge by the Assumption. I want my thirty groschen.

Nota scribaeDictated while leaning heavily on a notched halberd.

Candlemas, at Terce

Jarda took his oath today. He thinks he will take his pay and leave by summer. I did not have the heart to tell him the lords panicked and the magistrate locked the muster rolls. God help my ears.