miner of Horany, of Horany
“I hew rock and work the wooden pumps in the deep shafts at Horany. I survived the bailiff's winter mud when others did not, because I am too stubborn to die in a ditch.”
Things Denis had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after St John before the Latin Gate, at Vespers
I stood at the weigh-house this morning and Vitek's boy looked right past me. Simon the Ox still has my spare spade. He says he'll give it back when I walk to Kuttenberg to tell his sister Klara he's well. I am not an errand boy. A man's spade is his own silver.
Nota scribaeThe man stared at me the whole time without blinking. Unnerving.
the feast of St Mark, at None
Standing in the lower shafts again today, water up to my knees working the pumps. The stone is freezing and my boots are soaked through. I worry the damp will rot my feet off before I'm fifty. But a man does not complain, he just pumps the water.
It's not so bad! Think of the ale waiting for us, Denis.
You are too loud, Wenceslas.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Hugh and I were talking today. Just talking. We remembered the march back from Maleshov, the abandoned farmhouse we sheltered in. Hugh has a good memory for what we found there. I am hoping he remembers that we were standing right beside each other at the hearth.
I remember the mud, Denis. Nothing else worth talking about right now.
You will remember. We are not safe until things are set right.
If you two found something out there, I can keep a tally for a small cut.
Nota scribaeHe spoke this very slowly, watching the door.
the Monday after Laetare Sunday, at Compline
They say the price of bread in Kuttenberg is up again because of the soldiers on the roads. I don't care about the king or his brother. Let them rot. I just want the cabbage stew at the boarding house to have actual cabbage in it for once.
Cheer up, Denis! The widow put a whole onion in mine yesterday.
If you hewed faster, maybe you could afford a pigeon pie, Denis.
the week of Ash Wednesday, at Vespers
The bailiff was here today, looking important. It makes my stomach turn. Last November he marched us to Maleshov for militia duty. No battle, just freezing rain and rotten food. Andreas died of the bloody flux, and Edmund froze in his sleep. Walter took his cloak. Disgusting.
He didn't need it anymore, Denis. Would you rather a Cuman got it?
You're a scavenger, Walter. Edmund was barely cold.
You're both fools. Andreas and Edmund would be alive if we'd stayed in the mines.
Nota scribaeHe spat on the floor when he mentioned the cloak.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It's just one trip to the city, Denis. She worries. And your spare spade has a better haft than mine anyway.
I don't go to Kuttenberg and you know it. Give it back before the morning shift.
I snapped my needle yesterday, Denis, would you walk to the tailor for me?
Shut your mouth, boy.