hauler at Saint Barbara shaft, of Kuttenberg
“I haul more baskets of ore than anyone else in Kuttenberg, but everyone still blames me when things break.”
Things Jezhek the Gob had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
Wenceslas is still whining about the ten groschen. Master Bynyek is a thief to fine us for rotten timber, but it is not my fault it cracked! Take it up with the devil, old man. My back carries this whole crew.
Nota scribaeHe spoke very fast and kept pacing around the table.
the second day of May, at Prime
Lamprecht the Hog is crying about his iron wedge again. I need it for the rock! If Jarda gave me back my good pick, I wouldn't need to borrow things. Christ almighty, you'd think I killed his sheep.
My gums are bleeding and I need the coin from that wedge. You stole it, you didn't borrow it!
Leave my name out of this. You lent me that pick fair and square.
the Tuesday after Easter, at None
The lower gallery is black as pitch today. I keep talking to Mathes so the silence doesn't settle in, but he told me to shut my arse. The air is heavy down there. A man needs to keep moving or the mountain eats him.
You talk so much my ears ring. Just haul the baskets and be quiet.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Sext
The soldiers on the road took half the flour carts before they even reached Kuttenberg. Bread is dearer again. Master Bynyek sits in his counting house stealing our silver, and we chew on hard crusts in the damp.
Aye. Milada would have fed us. Her nephew is a miserly dog.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly outside the weighing house.
Candlemas, at Compline
Poor Milada died of a chest fever today. Up in heaven there'll be no miners drinking on credit. Her bastard nephew called in all our slates! I had to give my best pick to Jarda just to cover my debts. Bloody hell, what a mess.
It is a good pick. I will keep it safe for you.
I want it back by Sunday, Jarda.
Nota scribaeThe man was visibly shaking and smelled of sweat.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You fell asleep on the pumps, you little whoreson! I will have that coin out of your hide.
Try it, grandad. I move faster than you.