hired hand, of Kuttenberg
“I chop timber for the mines, when the bastards at the Court deign to hire me. I swing an axe all day and earn my groschen fair.”
Things Kunz had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Compline
The watch came round the yard asking about the muster. If the bailiff calls my name and I'm standing there bare, my back will take the whip. Nicholas, you whoreson, get the groschen and redeem the kit I paid for, or I swear by Christ almighty I'll beat it out of you.
Nota scribaeThe man was pacing the room and shouting. I have omitted several further threats of bodily harm.
the second day of Easter week, at Vespers
Another back-breaking shift at the smelting works. The new foreman is as bad as Franz was. Bread's twice what it was last year because of those bloody mercenaries eating the town dry. A man needs every crust he can find just to swing the axe.
the Friday after St Gregory, at None
Walter is still whining about his broadaxe. I need it for my livelihood, and he has enough coin to buy another! I'm not going back to carrying slag baskets for a boy's wage. Any man who tries to take it from me will get a fist in his teeth.
It's my best iron, Kunz. I lent it to you so you wouldn't take half-pay, not so you could steal it. Give it back.
You lent it because you're a rich old bastard. I'll give it back when the timbering is done, and not before.
You young men have no respect. Lamprecht has my heavy pick, and now you with Walter's axe. Thieves, the lot of you.
Nota scribaeHe struck the table with a fist wrapped in dirty rags as he said this.
the first Sunday in Lent, at Prime
Paid Barbara her bloody penny for the stable. A drafty hole in the hay, and she takes the coin with barely a nod. Better than freezing in the street, I suppose, but Christ almighty, it's hard to part with groschen when your belly is empty.
At least we have the hay. If it gets colder, we'll have to sleep closer to the horses.
The town demands its rent, Kunz. If you prefer the street, keep your penny next Sunday.
Candlemas, at Sext
That cheating bastard Franz says we must bring our own tools or take half-pay. I have nothing to my name! How is a man supposed to afford a broadaxe on half-wages? The foremen are bleeding us dry.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I told you, I needed the coin for bread! You think I pawned it for a laugh? Stop yelling and help me find the groschen.
You pawned it for small beer, you bastard! My purse is empty because I paid for it the first time!
He's right, Nicholas. You drank that helmet. Better start praying the bailiff is blind.