hired hand at the mint, of Kuttenberg
“I haul slag from the smelters until my boots rot. A man must eat, even when the mint forgets.”
Things Jan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Still no silver from the mint. Not a single groschen since Ash Wednesday. That bastard Christopher sits up in the counting house putting our wages in his own purse while we starve in the dirt. I rub my hands raw on the dross and get nothing for it.
Nota scribaeHe spoke quickly and spat on the floor after naming the steward.
the feast of Saint John before the Latin Gate, at None
Joerg threw Nickel's blanket right into the mud this morning so he could take the driest corner of the shed. I kept my mouth shut. The man will kill someone over a copper penny one day. God preserve us, I wish Widow Ellen was still here to boil the stew.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
My stomach was howling, so I took the padded jacket Hermann lent me for the muster and gave it to the ale-wife for a few loaves. By Saint Barbara, I had to eat. If the bailiff calls us to muster now, Hermann will see I have no gear and break my jaw.
What did you do with my jacket, you thief? Bring it back by Sunday or I will beat you bloody.
Have patience, Hermann. I only gave it to my cousin to mend the hem.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of malt and fear.
the second Sunday of Lent, at Terce
Widow Ellen packed her things and went to Prague to live with her sister. We have the shed to ourselves now. It is cold without her fire, and the men are already snarling at each other like stray dogs. At least I do not have to pay her a groschen a week anymore.
Candlemas, at Sext
I borrowed Robert's fine adze this morning. If I have no tool, the steward skips me at the morning hiring. Robert has plenty of tools anyway. I will give it back when the mint pays me my wages, which surely must be soon.
I lent you that adze for one day, Jan. Bring it back before I come looking for it.
I am still using it to clear the slag, Robert. Soon, I swear it.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed his hands on his tunic continuously while dictating this.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
May the devil drag Christopher to hell. I have not eaten meat in a month.
Hold your tongue, Jan. He is doing the King's work. The King is just short of coin.