former watchman of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“My knees are ruined from fifteen winters on the night watch, and now I stand with vagrants hoping for a day's coin.”
Things Hugh Field had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The bailiff's levy is coming and that whoreson Adam Thatcher still hasn't made good on my padded jack. He pawned it to the ale-wife for dice! If my knees weren't shot, I'd throw him in the mud myself. If the bailiff finds out my old kit is missing, I am ruined.
Nota scribaeDictated from a bench near the alehouse. He rubbed his joints the whole time.
The feast of Saint George, at None
Fritz Meyer and Andreas Preng are dodging the muster. Bloody cowards. In my day we stood for Kuttenberg, rain or snow. Now they hide like frightened sheep while men who actually served are left to freeze on the church steps.
I have a sore back, Hugh. The bailiff knows it.
The third day of Easter week, at Prime
Alan Fletcher will not shut his mouth about that maid Lidka. The lad is soft in the head. He should be worrying about bread prices and the Hungarians on the roads, not a girl locked in the upper town who doesn't even know he's alive.
You have no heart, Hugh. She smiled at me on Palm Sunday.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted twice by the man spitting.
The feast of Saint Gregory, at Sext
Mikesh didn't even come to the steps today. Sent a boy with a slate to pick who carts the timber. I remember when he'd look a man in the eye. I stood there half the morning before my legs gave out.
At least you didn't have to fight over a blunt broadaxe.
The morrow of Candlemas, at Terce
A bitter wind today. Poor Geldstück froze in the lower alley last night. Well, up in heaven there'll be no bailiff troubling him. Christ almighty, the cold settles right into my joints. A cup of hot ale is the only thing for it.
Amen to that. I'll buy you a cup later.
Nota scribaeHe smelled strongly of the hot ale he spoke of.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You pushed a rotting piece of junk on me for an extortionate price, old man. I only got what it was worth.
You should have known better than to trust the boy, Hugh.
That jack kept the peace for fifteen years, you little shit!