stave shaper and labourer, of Kuttenberg
“I shape staves for the cooper down the lane, when I'm not waiting by the lower market for a master to point a finger at me. I try to keep my head down and do a fair day's labour.”
Things Richard Field had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Stood at the lower market this morning and watched the foreman point straight past me to three Germans. My neck aches from hunching over the cooper's bench all afternoon instead. If a man had his proper iron, he wouldn't be hauling rubble or shaping staves for pennies.
Nota scribaeDictated while rubbing the back of his neck furiously.
the second day of May, at None
John Carter won't shut up about that girl sent to Kolin. Christ almighty, love doesn't put pork on the table. A sensible man worries about the price of bread and keeping his place at the yard, not some passing fancy.
You know nothing about it, Richard. You care more for a piece of metal than any breathing soul.
Leave him be, Richard. Some of us look to a future beyond the cooper's yard.
the Wednesday after Easter, at Terce
Saw William Miller in the square today. Walked right past me without a word. My adze is still in his shed, while he invents a new broken board on his roof every morning. A thief wrapped in the dignity of an elder, friend.
The spring rains are heavy this year, lad. The roof must be tight. You'll get it when the job is done.
He's doing it cheap for the bailiff, I heard. You won't see that adze till summer.
Nota scribaeThe speaker grew very red in the face and used a word for William Miller that I will not write.
the start of Lent, at Prime
Godfrey has packed his shop and fled to Prague, and my good cloak with him. I saw the soldiers coming and tried to prepare, and now I'm left freezing. The old men say he knew when to leave, but I say he's a whoreson.
He took my good boots, too. May the Cumans find him on the road.
We are well rid of him, even if it cost us.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Lent my only good adze to William Miller for a single day to repair his roof. He claimed it was just for the afternoon. If poor Master Denis were still alive and running the yard, a man wouldn't have to scrape and borrow to make a living.
It's just until the weather turns, Richard. Have some respect for your elders.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If a man had his proper iron, he could do his own work. Speaking of which, friend.
I said I need the drawknife till the stave work is done. It's not my fault the wood is green.