miner at the Osel, of Kuttenberg
“I hew rock at the Osel mine and my bones feel every year of it.”
Things Denis the Miner had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Young Bartel Milk-drinker is still swinging my best pick at the rock face. Every day I watch his clumsy hands and pray to Saint Barbara he doesn't snap the iron. I need it back, lad. A man cannot work with bare hands.
Nota scribaeThe man rubbed his knuckles the entire time he spoke.
the feast of Saint Mark, at Compline
If Otto mutters about his mother Adelheid one more time, I will lose my mind. We all have our troubles. My knees ache like the devil's own fire, but you don't hear me weeping to Lorenz to carry messages to Prague.
You have a heart of stone, Denis. She is an old woman.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Wolfgang swore he would return my spare tool within a fortnight. That was weeks ago. Every morning at the gates, Master Konrad looks at my hands, and I fear the day he turns me away to starve in the mud.
The seam is hard right now, Denis. Have some pity. You have your other iron.
Pity doesn't buy my bread, Wolfgang.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Prime
The damp in this cellar is settling deep into my bones. A dozen men sweating and snoring, and not a hearth to warm us. I would give a week's groschen for a hot fire and a quiet corner.
Aye, the straw is rotting beneath us. It's a miserable life.
Nota scribaeDictated before the morning shift. He smelled strongly of stale ale.
the day after Candlemas, at Vespers
The black water broke through the lower galleries yesterday. I heard the lads screaming as the freezing rush caught them. Saint Barbara guided my feet up the ladders, but half the crew lost their tools to the deep. God rest the dead.
It was a nightmare. I dropped my haul and ran.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I just need it for one more shift, Denis. I swear on my mother's grave.
He owes me iron too. If he doesn't hand it over by Sunday, I'll break his nose.