digger at the mint, of Kuttenberg
“I dig in the mud outside the Italian Court and freeze to the bone. Every day my leg aches worse and the money never comes.”
Things Nickel had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the feast of St Pancras, at Vespers
My chest rattles worse than ever. I swore I would walk to Sedletz if the winter fever broke, but there are soldiers on the road and I have no strength. The Lord knows I have not had a full belly since Lent, let alone the strength for a pilgrimage.
Nota scribaeHe coughed for an hourglass before we finished. The phlegm was dark.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
It rained all through the night and my bones feel like shattered glass. Joerg is snoring in my dry corner, wrapped in my good wool blanket. I pray a stranger comes to break his heavy jaw and get it back. I would mend their boots for free.
the fourth week of Lent, at Terce
Tuma and Richard are fighting over a rusty axe and a tin plate like wild dogs. I miss Ellen. When the widow ran the shed, she kept the beasts in line. Since she went to Prague, this place is nothing but a sty.
It was my plate first and you know it, you sour old bastard.
Good riddance to her. At least we pay no rent to the air.
Nota scribaeDictated outside the alehouse. The word he used for his neighbours was not beasts.
Ash Wednesday, at None
That whoreson steward Christopher has locked the upper counting house at the mint. We stood at the gates freezing for our daily wages, and he paid out nothing. He is probably giving the silver to the Hungarians while honest men starve in the gutters.
Keep your voice down, Nickel. He is only doing what the King commands.
The King is not the one holding my coin, lad.
Nota scribaeI asked him not to swear against the royal mint, but he spat on my boot.
Candlemas, at Compline
The sweating sickness has me by the throat. Hannes is raving beside me on the floor. If the Lord spares me this fever and lets me breathe again, I swear I will make a pilgrimage to the monks at Sedletz.
Rest easy. I will fetch the priest if you turn blue.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You are making excuses, Nickel. God does not forget a vow made on the edge of death.
Shut your mouth, Hannes. You know I can barely stand.