David

The Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers

Jarda passed me over again this morning because I had no proper chisel to show. By Saint Joseph, my hands are bare while Paul still hoards my good iron. I will be hauling rock until my back breaks if this goes on.

• 
  Paul

  I have one more frame to finish, then you shall have it. Hold your peace.

• 
  David

  Your last job has lasted since the winter snows, you whoreson.

Nota scribaeHe demonstrated the lack of a chisel with his hands for some time.

The third day of Easter week, at None

Alexander was a fool to leave his padded jack with the widow Constance. Her rates would bleed a stone dry. Now Tobias has bought it back for him, and Tobias is too soft for this world.

• 
  Tobias

  A man cannot freeze, David. We must look after our own.

The feast of Saint George, at Prime

Nathan was at the ale-stand again, weeping into his cup over Kona. God rest her soul, the winter fever took her three years past. Up in heaven she needs no tears, and down here we need to drink in peace.

• 
  Nathan

  You have no wife to lose, lad. You know nothing of the ache.

The Thursday after Saint Gregory, at Sext

Men say the bread will be dearer still with these soldiers on the roads. I care not, so long as Jarda pays silver. I am framing a stout fence this week. Jonas's heavy adze bites the wood well enough, though he left it dull.

• 
  Jonas

  It would bite better if it were back in my own chest. Hand it over, lad.

• 
  David

  You are too old to swing it straight anyway. I will bring it when the fence stands.

Nota scribaeDictated outside the tavern.

Candlemas, at Compline

I lent my best chisel to Paul today, for he swore he had a quick task. It cost me a month of sweat to buy it. If he blunts the edge, I will make him eat the shavings.

Nota scribaeHe was very proud of the tool.