roof patcher and labourer, of Kuttenberg
“I am a steady hand with timber, but not a steady foot. Laid up and starving because of a wet cobble.”
Things Paul had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The eve of the Ascension, at None
Christ's wounds, my stomach is louder than the church bells. I cannot stand in line at the baker's with this ankle. I have thirteen groschen tucked in my belt for anyone who will fetch me two ordinary loaves to see me through the week. It is a shameful thing to beg, but I am starving.
Nota scribaeHe offered me the coins, but I am a clerk of the parish, not a baker's boy.
The Tuesday after Quasimodo Sunday, at Vespers
Jonas is a whoreson and a fool. I dipped into my own savings to buy him a padded jacket and a spear so the bailiff wouldn't flog him at the muster. Now I hear he took it all straight to the pawn broker because grain went up. I will be ruined by the fine.
The third day of Easter week, at Terce
Slipped on a wet cobble by the lower square. Christ's wounds, my ankle is swollen like a bladder. I had to send a boy to Master Gilbert at the outbuildings to say I cannot haul timber today. I pray to St Lawrence he does not give my place to another.
Nota scribaeDictated from his stool. He winced sharply at every third word and grabbed his leg.
St Gertrude's day, at Compline
If Daniel and Jonas do not stop this silent feud of theirs, I will bash their heads together. We all share this damp cellar, and the glaring makes the ale taste sour. Daniel, just drop it. We have enough trouble with the cold and the price of bread without you acting like a stubborn child.
I will drop it when he pays what he owes. The boy is a thief.
The morrow of Candlemas, at Prime
The roof over the baker's shed is patched, praise be. I had to borrow David's shaping mallet to finish the joints. It is a fine heavy tool. I should return it, but there is always another beam that needs knocking into place.
It has been three days, Paul. I need my mallet for the new door frames.
Nota scribaeHe looked guiltily at a mallet sitting in the corner of the room.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I can bring you a loaf after my kitchen shift, Paul. Keep your groschen.
Bless you, lad. The ale-wife was starting to look at me like I was a roasted pig.