townsman and laborer, of Kuttenberg
“I have a quick head and a silver tongue, which is more than the miserable bastards I stand next to can say. Lifting stones is for mules.”
Things Jacob the Townsman had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at None
If I hear Adam whine about a message to his family one more time, I'll spit. I am not walking that way. Go find a pedlar or learn to use your own bloody legs. I have my own troubles without being a nursemaid.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke quickly and kept looking over his shoulder toward the door.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Michael the Townsman is a miser who would hoard his own shit if he thought it would burn in a lamp. He wouldn't lend me a rusted hammer yesterday. A man tries to broker a small deal and his own mates turn their backs.
I lend to men who bring things back, Jacob.
the Feast of St George, at Terce
We used to have proper work under Humphrey. Good groschen every Saturday, no matter if you spoke Czech or German. Now he is in Prague building churches and we are standing in the mud. He said he would send for us. I reckon he forgot.
Aye. A fair master he was. My bones ache standing in this cold mud.
He'll send word. You'll see. And then you can pay me my eleven groschen.
the second Sunday of Lent, at Vespers
Adam is asking after his war gear again. Christ almighty, the muster is coming and I haven't the coin to redeem the bloody thing from the pawnbroker. It was only meant to buy me a week's ale. A man gets thirsty hauling timber all day.
You pawned my kit? God's nails, Jacob, what am I supposed to wear to the muster?
Keep your shirt on, I will think of something.
Nota scribaeHe smelled strongly of cheap ale and dictated this in a low voice.
Candlemas, at Compline
Martin the Townsman is claiming I owe him eleven groschen from an arm-wrestling bout. The lad was so drunk he couldn't see straight, and it was a joke between mates. I am not paying eleven groschen I don't have to a hot-headed boy. Let him complain.
A wager is a wager, Jacob. My arm was stronger and you know it.
You both looked like fools. Buy him a cup of ale and be done with it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is just a few words, Jacob. They need to know I still breathe.
Then breathe louder so they can hear it from here.