carpenter and day labourer, of Kuttenberg
“I am a tired man whose hands are too stiff for the heavy lifting the younger lads do, trying to earn my bread. The world has grown dear and harsh since my Kona passed.”
Things Nathan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Compline
Eli is a wicked, heartless thief. I tell the whole town, he walked into my lodging and took the heavy tin pitcher my Kona drank her last water from. He will not give it back until I redeem the iron cap, or confess a dice debt I never owed. I sold it for bread. A man must eat.
Nota scribaeHe spent most of the dictation turning a wooden bead on his wrist and glaring at the door.
the Monday after Saint George, at Vespers
The town council and their bloody edict for war gear will starve us all. Eli bought me an iron cap so the bailiff would not fine me at the muster. I took it straight to Constance the widow and pawned it. I had not eaten a crumb in two days. Let the Cumans come, I cannot fight them on an empty belly.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Stood by the cross since first light. My knuckles ache like the devil is in them. Jarda picked three men for fine work and left me to haul broken carts. I watched young David making excuses to Jonas about a borrowed adze. I told the lad to find better lies if he wants to survive in this town.
Mind your own business, old man. I will give it back when the work is done.
That is rich coming from you, Nathan. Where is the shaping plane you took from me?
the Wednesday of Lent, at Terce
Saw Benjamin today. Eli keeps begging him to carry messages to his brother Philip in Prague, and Benjamin just throws them in the dirt when Eli turns his back. I say nothing. Waiting for the dead to return is a terrible grief, and a man must bear it alone. God rest my Kona.
Philip went to Prague before the winter. The war swallowed him. Eli needs to let the matter rest, I have my own work to do.
Nota scribaeDictated at the ale-stand. The man's beer was very thin.
the day after Candlemas, at Prime
Took the loan of a shaping plane from Peter the Townsman. He is a wealthy man and can afford to wait a season for it. I need it to get work from Jarda, for the master only hires men who bring their own tools. I will return it when I have some silver in my purse, God willing.
A season? You said you needed it for three days. Bring it to my yard before Sunday or I will tell the bailiff.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Look me in the eye and admit you gambled the silver away, you old fool. Constance's grate does not hide your lies.
It was for bread. Give me back my wife's pitcher before God strikes you blind.