priest, of Kuttenberg
“I am the shepherd of this unruly flock, God help me. It is a heavy burden, and I pray for wisdom daily.”
Things Father Adam had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at None
The ledgers are a torment. Every groschen must be accounted for, and the war makes bread dearer than silver. I thank the Lord for Paul Schmidt. He handles the offertory box and the keys with such care. I do not know how I should manage without him, truly.
the fourth day of Easter week, at Prime
My heart is heavy. The silver chalice vanished from the sanctuary. I had no choice but to call the watch on Benesh. He brought this ruin upon himself. He sat in the stocks, and I have stopped his wages. A shepherd must sometimes use the crook to discipline the sheep. Mea culpa, but it must be so.
You are a blind fool, Father. I took nothing! My mother washed those altar linens, I would never steal from that holy place.
Silence your tongue, boy. The matter is settled.
Nota scribaeThe priest touched his collar three times while dictating this.
the eve of St George, at Vespers
I walked through the lower town today. So many refugees from burnt villages, soldiers on the road. The Pope's decree to chronicle our lives seems a small comfort when the world is burning. Dominus vobiscum, I said to a beggar, but he only wanted bread.
Latin won't fill a belly, Father. Though we thank you for the prayers.
the feast of Saints Philip and James, at Terce
Father Clement passed me by the mint today. I turned down the alley to avoid him. I pawned the gear he paid for, meaning to redeem it before the muster, but the coin is simply not there. I pray he does not ask for it soon.
I saw you turn down that alley, Adam. We must speak before Whitsun.
God's wounds, Adam, you pawned it? You are a fool.
Nota scribaeHe spoke this very quietly, looking over his shoulder.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at Sext
I lent my best carpentry tool to Father Dominic at Candlemas. It cost a month of hard labour to acquire. Every time I ask for it, he finds a reason to keep it. I do not wish to quarrel, but I truly need it back. In Domino confido, but my patience wears thin.
It is perfectly safe, Adam. I only need it to finish repairing the rectory roof. By Sunday, perhaps.
You said that at Easter, Dominic.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You worry too much, Father. Leave the coin to me. Old Father Bartel always did, God rest his soul.
He bought a very heavy winter coat, your Paul. Must be good work.