carpenter's helper, of Kuttenberg
“I patch carts and drive pegs for pennies, and am too good a Christian. A man tries to help his neighbour and gets robbed blind for his trouble.”
Things Reginald Wright had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
God's nails, I saw two town guards by the alehouse and my blood ran cold. Standa says Peter the clerk is drawing up the muster lists for the Cumans. I am saving every copper I have to change his mind. I am a carpenter, not a soldier.
Nota scribaeHe spoke in a frantic rush, spilling half his ale on the ledger.
The Wednesday after Saint George, at Terce
Gilbert Smith is a thief and a liar. He still has my fine brass oil lamp that I lent him out of pure charity. Now he says I broke his carving knife at Easter! I never touched his bloody blade.
You snapped the blade on a bone and you know it. My late mother Svatava would weep to see such lies.
Keep your mother out of this and give me my brass back!
The third day of Easter week, at None
Sitting on raw lumber eating my stepmother Elizabeth's cabbage. Every time a shadow falls across the market I think it is the bailiff's men coming to march me off to die on a Hungarian spear. Sakra, my stomach is in knots.
At least you have cabbage, lad. Landlord Walter took my last penny for a roof that pours rain.
The eve of Saint Gregory, at Prime
My hands are full of splinters and my back is breaking. Foreman David pays us like beggars and would replace a man before his blood hit the dirt. I wish I could just haul stone quietly like Ralph Field and be left in peace.
Keep your head down, Reginald. That is the only way.
Nota scribaeThe lad kept looking over his shoulder toward the market.
The day after Candlemas, at Compline
It is bitter cold. I took pity on Gilbert Smith because his chimney was smoking him out, so I lent him my good brass oil lamp. A Christian deed. He said he would bring it back in a few days.
You are a fool, Reginald. You will never see that brass again.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Sakra, Reginald, keep your voice down or they will take us both.