John Black

the eve of St John, at Vespers

Hynek was in a foul temper this morning. Two men sacked for dragging their boots to the timber pile. I saw Ernest limping heavily on the stairs again today, but I held my tongue. A man without a wage in Kuttenberg might as well lie down in the dirt.

• 
  Ernest Grey

  Mind your own bloody business, John. My leg is fine.

• 
  John Black

  I said nothing to the foreman, Ernest. God's truth.

the third day of Easter week, at Compline

I begged Frantishek White again to carry word to my family. He travels the roads, but he flatly refuses a peasant's errand. I only want to know if my home is burned by these Cuman devils. The man has no charity in his black heart.

• 
  Frantishek White

  The roads are crawling with raiders, you fool. I am not risking my neck for your mother's peace of mind.

Nota scribaeHe spent a long while wringing his hands before speaking this.

the Thursday before Palm Sunday, at None

I crept out before prime today to avoid the Widow Marion. The winter froze the timber, the work stopped, and now I owe her rent I do not have. Half the lads in the attic have pawned their gear to her. I pray she stays in Prague.

• 
  Adam Thatcher

  She took my good boots, the grasping old crow.

the feast of St Gregory, at Sext

Sitting apart with my hard bread while the others talk of the tavern. They call me a miser for saving my pennies, but they do not know the fear of a dry purse. Let them drink away their wages; I will keep my head.

• 
  Kunz Schmidt

  You are a miserable sod, John. A drop of ale would warm your frozen blood.

Nota scribaeDictated beside a wood pile. He offered me no bread.

Candlemas, at Vespers

My hands are blistered raw from the frozen wood at the Italian Court. We haul the heavy timber for the mint's scaffolding from dawn to dusk. It is bitter cold, but it is honest coin, if Hynek does not sack us first.