townsman of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I am a man of enterprise, sharper than these ink-stained clerks. I saw a chance for rightful profit in the muster, but this town is full of thieves.”
Things Roger Clark had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The Tuesday before Whitsun, at None
Saint George defend me from the lies of Robert Baker! He holds my best padded gambeson and tells the town I gave it him for a loan of silver. A complete fabrication! The man is a thief taking advantage of the times, and I need it back before the captain comes.
Nota scribaeDictated at a frantic pace near the baker's stall. He spat when he named Robert.
The second day of Easter week, at Prime
I offered a fine, sharp dagger for hire to young Joerg Schneider. A simple arrangement for a few pennies to see him safe through the inspections. The boy refused me flatly! Too soft for these dark days, that one. A smart man arms himself when the soldiers are about.
I have no need of your rusty blade, Roger, nor the coin to waste on it.
Maundy Thursday, at Vespers
My ruin is upon me. I lent a solid iron hat to Adam Mailer and a padded jack to Udo for the muster. They swore on the saints to bring them back. Instead they marched to the pawnbroker, sold my kit for silver, and drank it! Bloody hell, I am undone.
It was a thirsty day at the muster, Roger. The alehouse called louder than your iron hat.
The pawnbroker gave a fair price. We'll pay you back when the work yields.
Nota scribaeThe man paced the whole time, clutching his head in despair.
The feast of St Gertrude, at Sext
Waiting in the cold near the Italian Court. The tally-clerks sit inside by the fire while we freeze. Edmund hands out the shifts like a king giving alms. He's a sheltered fool who knows nothing of the world, but we need his nod to eat today.
Keep your voice down, Roger. If Edmund hears, we'll all starve.
Aye, my toes are frozen solid waiting here for work.
Nota scribaeHe looked over his shoulder twice before speaking of the head clerk.
The day after Candlemas, at Terce
The King is captive and the bailiff demands every man show his arms. I see a chance where others see trouble! I have spent my savings on iron hats and chausses to rent to the poorer lads. Saint George willing, I shall double my purse by Sunday.
A bold wager, Roger. Let us hope the men pay you.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You owe me the silver, Roger. Pay what you borrowed and you'll get your jacket.
I owe you nothing, you whoreson liar! Give it back!