bricklayer at the town walls, of Kuttenberg
“I lay brick to put a roof over a house full of vipers. My late mother Svatava would weep to see the ruin of this family.”
Things Hynek Carter had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Holy Trinity, at Vespers
If Yarka speaks to that penniless stableboy one more time, I will nail our door shut from the outside. She will not make the Carters a laughing stock in the street. Svatava would have taken a switch to her.
Nota scribaeHe shouted the last sentence at a dog passing the alehouse.
the Tuesday after Saint John, at Compline
Now John thinks he can pursue a girl whose reputation is already mud. I told the boy he will bring shame on us all, but he is as stubborn as a mule. They conspire to ruin me, I swear it.
She is a decent girl and you listen to too much gossip.
Give him a clout round the ear and be done with it, Hynek.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
Another day choking on brick dust. The new clerks at the Italian Court pinched three pennies from my wage today because they know I have mouths to feed and cannot walk away. Humphrey never did that, God rest his clumsy neck.
Aye, they squeeze us dry. I barely have enough for a pint.
Nota scribaeDictated at the works gate. His hands were indeed covered in dust.
Saint Gregory's day, at None
Roger Wood is furious that Henslin pawned his war gauntlets. It is pure justice. A man who pawns Gottfried's kit for ale deserves no pity when his own gear goes missing. Grow up, boy, and drink less.
Keep your nose out of my business, old man.
My sister Johanka in Prague says the bakers there do not even drink on shift. We live among swine.
the day after Candlemas, at Prime
The morning chill is in my bones, and I have to listen to Geoffrey Thatcher whine about the bailiff's muster roll before I even lift a stone. Honest labour is dead. Young men today shake at shadows.
Ernest marched off with the levy and died in the mud. I have a right to worry.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You cannot keep me locked inside forever, father. He is a good lad.
Hold your tongue, girl, before I forget myself.