quarryman at the sandstone works, of Kuttenberg
“I bought my own iron to earn the hewer's rate, lent it out of pity, and learned that a soft heart empties your purse.”
Things John had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Ascension, at Compline
Joseph wept again today about his father's bone comb. I told him he can comb his hair when my heavy stone-hammer is back in my hands. A pledge is a pledge. Osbert inspected us today and I nearly got docked to the boy's rate. Give me my iron, you whoreson.
Nota scribaeThe man spat on the floor before leaving.
the eve of St George, at Vespers
Young Paul picked another pointless fight over spilled beer in the yard. If his brother Edmund were here, he would box the boy's ears. Now Edmund is off fighting the Cumans, and Svatava is shouting for her rent while my hands bleed from the stone.
That hired hand pushed my arm! I won't let some town idiot spill my groschen on the dirt.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Simon's mouth works faster than his pickaxe. He swore on the cross he would bring my good iron wedge back by Easter, but today he claimed the edge needed grinding. Just one more shift, he says. If he dodges me tomorrow I will break his nose.
Keep your shirt on, John. I just need it for the morning shift. You'll have it by Vespers, I swear it.
Nota scribaeHe asked me to underline the threat.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Old Andrew tried to mend my torn coat last night. He means well, wanting to honour his late wife Doubravka, God rest her soul. But his eyes are failing and he sewed the sleeve entirely shut. I had to rip the thread out before the shift.
I am sorry, John. Doubravka had the steady hands for the needle. I just did not want you catching a chill in the cellar.
Candlemas, at Vespers
The bitter freeze has finally broken and work resumes at the quarry tomorrow. Simon and Joseph were shivering like stray sheep, terrified Osbert would put them on boy's wages for lacking tools. I lent my heavy hammer and my best iron wedge out of pity. They promised them back by the next saint's day.
God bless you, John. My father would weep to see me pushing carts for pennies. You saved me.
Nota scribaeDictated at the alehouse. He spoke proudly of his own charity.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You humiliate me before the whole cellar! I lent my axe to Eli, what am I supposed to show Osbert tomorrow?
Show him your empty hands, lad. The comb stays with me.