hauler of stone and timber, of Kuttenberg
“I haul stone for a few groschen. I keep my head down, because trouble finds you fast enough.”
Things Alexander had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Another day hauling stone for Jarda. My back aches and my hands are split. If I had my own tools like David or Jonas, maybe I would earn more than ale money. But I rub my jaw and say nothing. Let the master shout.
the second day of Easter week, at Compline
I walked a mile out of my way today just to avoid Constance's grated window. The interest on that silver keeps growing. Nathan says we will both end up in the pillory when the watch muster comes. God's nails, I just need one good week of work.
The pillory is cold, but at least it is free to sit there.
Where is my padded jack, Alexander? You promised it before the feast.
Nota scribaeHe spent a long time rubbing his jaw before speaking, looking nervous.
the eve of St George, at None
Prices for bread are mad this spring with all the soldiers about. I saw a Cuman on the road and turned right around. A dead man pays no debts, but I would rather keep my head on my shoulders.
Aye, the roads are no place for an honest man now.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Sext
I sent a letter to Tobias offering a share of my wages to pay for the jack. I had to pawn it to the widow for rent. I am an honest man, I just need time. Let it be written so he knows I mean to pay.
A letter does not keep off a sword blow, you fool. I paid good silver for that armor.
You should have kept your mouth shut, Alexander. Now the whole square knows.
Nota scribaeDictated at the ale-stand. He looked over his shoulder the whole time.
Candlemas, at Prime
The muster is coming and rent is due. I took the padded jack Tobias bought for me to the widow Constance. Just for a month, I told her. The Lord knows I did not want to, but a man must sleep under a roof in winter.
You are a fool to deal with that widow. She will eat you alive.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of old beer and fear.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
We pull the same yoke, lad. Drink your ale and rest.
If you want my chisel, you will have to pry it from my cold fingers.