labourer of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I am a peaceable man, sakra, and I just want to do my work and go home to my wife.”
Things Fritz Meyer had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
There is talk of another levy and the crier was shouting in the lower town today. Sakra! I cannot hold a spear against Cumans. Else is taken very sick with a fever and needs me by the hearth. The bailiff must cross my name out.
Nota scribaeHe waved his hands so much he knocked over my inkhorn.
the eve of St George, at None
My back is ruined from hauling timber all day. Mikesh stays warm in the yard master's house while we freeze in the mud. And that madman Nicholas Fisher kept talking about his strip of land until my ears bled. Sakra, it is a hard life.
It is good land, Fritz, and I will have it back from the thieves who took it.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
I am still waiting for my good pewter jug to walk back through my door. A certain Frantishek White knows exactly where it is. If any stranger wants to earn a few groschen, they can go to him and fetch my property back, because I am not risking the watch to do it.
I did not steal your bloody jug, Fritz. Ask your own wife where it went.
Please do not shout at him, husband, it is only a jug.
Nota scribaeDictated from the steps of St James. He kept looking over his shoulder.
the first week of Lent, at Terce
Standing by the church steps waiting for work and old Hugh Field is trying to push rotten gear onto the young boys again. It is a disgrace. At least the watch is busy in the upper town today, so a man can breathe.
My gear is perfectly good, you ungrateful whoreson. Better than what you own.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Sakra! Some thief has walked right into my house and stolen my fine pewter jug off the table the moment my back was turned. I know Frantishek White was eyeing it. A man cannot even trust his neighbours in this town.
Hide what little you have left, Fritz. The soldiers will take the rest soon enough.
Nota scribaeHe was very red in the face and spilled his thin ale on my parchment.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Aye, we must keep our heads down, Fritz. I saw the watchmen looking at us by the church steps.
Your wife was at the baker's this morning looking perfectly well, you coward.