priest of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I shepherd this noisy, lovable Kuttenberg flock. The church is for the living, so I keep one ear for sins and the other for a good tavern tale.”
Things Father Dominic had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Terce
My heart aches for poor Ellen, sitting in the dirt of Bylany. She was driven away by wicked lies, and my assistant Benesh is too proud and blind to see what his late mother did to her. If I could go myself without the archdeacon sniffing around, I would ask her to return.
Nota scribaeThe priest patted his stomach repeatedly while dictating this. I took it down exactly.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Heinz Torwart has lost his wits along with his coin at the dice tables. I lent him my copy of the Quaestiunculae to settle a wager, and now he demands a jug of mead or twenty groschen to give it back. I need that book to show Benesh that a priest may laugh without burning for it.
Mead is dear, Father, and twenty groschen is a fair finding-fee for such a heavy text.
A priest should not be wagering in the tavern, nor laughing like a common tinker.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at Vespers
I find myself missing Joseph the beadle terribly these days. He knew how to keep the accounts without sighing every time a penny was spent on altar wine. Since he went to Prague, the parish house has been quiet as a tomb, save for Benesh's relentless piety.
Joseph was a good man. The tavern is duller without him, too.
the feast of St Gregory, at Sext
Father Adam has asked twice now after the fine calipers and binding press he lent me at Candlemas. I told him the parish records are in a dreadful state and require urgent attention. It is not exactly a lie, but truth be told, they are simply a joy to use on my desk.
Brother Dominic, your records have been urgent for forty days. I have my own work to do.
Patience is a virtue, Adam. I will bring them before Easter.
Nota scribaeDictated in the parish house. He was polishing the calipers as he spoke.
the day after Candlemas, at Prime
Had a letter from Brother Thomas at Sedletz. He is shaking like a leaf over the King's brother and these Hungarian soldiers on the roads, terrified they will levy the monastery. I told him to trust in the Lord and keep the cellar locked. There is enough trouble here just keeping the baker's bread from shrinking.
It is easy for you to laugh, Dominic. The Cumans do not stop for a good joke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My mother was a saintly woman, Father. You do her memory wrong to speak so.
Save your pity, Father. I am saving my pennies for the convent now.