collier in the Kuttenberg woods, of Kuttenberg
“I burn wood so the town stays warm, and I keep my silver in my boots where it belongs.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Terce
The foreign bastards at the gates shook down a carter right in front of me today. Praise be I remembered to slip my silver into my boots before I came down from the woods. I'd rather walk on blisters than give them a single penny.
Nota scribaeThe man laughed nervously and tapped his boot against the floor.
the feast of St Florian, at Sext
Fritz was hovering around the clamp again today, looking at the broadaxe. My own blade is still out being sharpened, I told him, so I need it a little longer. A practical man makes do, heh heh. No sense him leaving it idle when there's hard oak to trim.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Hauled six heavy sacks down to Master Wilhelm's smokehouses. Emma near took my head off for tracking mud onto her cobbles. Bloody hell, woman, I'm a collier, not a priest. The groschen is good, though. Better than what that lazy toad Master Franz leaves us for sweating in the dirt.
Next time you foul my clean cobbles, Thomas, I'll take a broom to your thick skull.
Nota scribaeDictated outside the slaughterhouse. He spat black phlegm before speaking.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at None
Christ almighty, Hermann never stops weeping about his padded jack. He lent it to William Mailer who pawned it for ale, and now Hermann's wailing that he'll be killed by the levy. The Hungarian whoresons at the gates would have stolen it off his back anyway.
Else told me to keep my savings safe, and now I have nothing to fight in!
I will pay you back the coin when my luck turns at the dice, Hermann.
the eve of Candlemas, at Vespers
Young Fritz bought himself a heavy broadaxe from a travelling smith. A fine piece of iron, that. I asked to borrow it just to trim some oak for the new clamp. No sense blunting my own blade when he's got a fresh one, heh heh.
I only meant for you to use it for the afternoon, Thomas. I paid two months' wages for it.
Nota scribaeThis took a great deal of nervous chuckling to dictate.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You'll wear holes in your soles, Thomas, and then you'll have to pay a cobbler.