hewer at the Osel shaft, of Kuttenberg
“I am a careful man surrounded by fools who cannot count. I brought spare iron to Kuttenberg to make an honest living, and now I bleed groschen for my charity.”
Things Karl had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The bailiff is calling the militia muster for the summer. I have a stout club and I will stand in the back rank. Gilbert panicked and gave good silver to Drunkard Endres to go in his stead. Endres bought a coat and pawned it for ale the same day. Christ almighty, men are stupid.
the feast of the Invention of the Cross, at None
Hans the foreman stood at the shaft today, counting tools. Only men holding their own iron draw a hewer's wage. I am a hewer, but Lawrence still makes excuses about returning my wedge. I lose pennies every day I work without it. The King needs his silver, and I am the one paying for it.
The wood handle is loose, Karl. I am repairing it for you. Have some patience.
Nota scribaeHe counted out his lost wages on his calloused fingers while speaking.
the Tuesday after Easter week, at Compline
Easter has come and gone. I lent my best pick to Gilbert the Mouth before Candlemas, and he swore by all the saints I would have it back before the resurrection. Now he claims keeping my pick settles a tavern debt of two groschen from Lent. I owe him nothing. He owes me my iron.
You drank four tankards of the widow's best beer on my coin, Karl. The iron makes us square.
I drank water, you whoreson. Give me my pick.
the third Wednesday of Lent, at Sext
Franz the Wolf was mocking Benesh today over a cheap wooden rosary that belonged to Martha, God rest her. Then Markvart the Hare dropped a barrow on Hannes's foot and laughed about it. I keep my head down and swing my hammer. I have no time for their foolishness, but the noise gives me an ache.
Martha carved those beads with her own hands. Franz has no right to touch them.
I only asked how much ale they would buy, old man.
Nota scribaeDictated in the street. He sighed heavily before every sentence.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Prime
Paid my two pennies to the widow this morning, exact count, so I am not thrown in the street. I lent two spare tools to Lawrence and Gilbert yesterday. They had none and could not earn. I expect them back by Easter. A man must look to his neighbours, but I will not be taken for a fool.
May God reward your charity, Karl. You have saved my livelihood.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I paid him three groschen, Karl. How was I to know the alehouse would smell the coin on him?
Because he is called Drunkard Endres. It is his given name, you fool.