hired hand at the court, of Kuttenberg
“I haul lime and timber for the Italians down at the Court. It is a beggar's game.”
Things Simon had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The bailiff says the watch musters next week. Bloody hell. Praying my brother Bohuta rides in from Prague with his mercenary silver before the rolls are called, or I am ruined.
Nota scribaeDictated in a rush. The man would not stand still.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Master Gilbert's boy picked me for the lime pits again. My hands are blistered raw. If Bohuta were here we would be drinking in our own tavern by now, not hauling for the Italians.
the Feast of the Annunciation, at Sext
The price of grain is madness. A man must eat. A heavy gambeson and an iron hat will not fill my belly, and the pawnbroker gives good coin for such things. The Lord will forgive a starving man.
If Andrew hears of this, he will beat you bloody, lad.
the second Tuesday of Lent, at None
Joseph is weeping about his cutting shears again. I used them at the sheds and left them in my corner of the cellar. I will bring them to the square when I remember. These men act like lords over a bloody scrap of iron.
They are my shears, Simon! Master Gilbert demands we bring our own tools. Bring them tomorrow!
Nota scribaeThe man rubbed his hands together the entire time.
Candlemas, at Terce
Andrew bought me a gambeson and a helmet so I would not be flogged at the watch muster. He means well, but it is heavy as sin. Poor Ellen would have told him not to waste his coin on me.
Keep it clean, Simon. The bailiff is strict this year. And leave my wife out of it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You have a helmet and a gambeson, Simon. I paid good groschen for them. Bring them to the muster.