miner at the Pach, of Kuttenberg
“I hew rock in the deep seams to earn my bread. Someone has to go into the black.”
Things Lawrence had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
The dust sits heavy in my chest today. Caught myself coughing on the ladders and had to swallow it down before Foreman Simon noticed. A man shows weakness and he stops getting picked for the shift. At least I'm not pawning my gear for ale like Drunkard Endres.
Nota scribaeHe cleared his throat several times while speaking, but forbade me to write that down.
the feast of St Pancras, at None
Udo was whining about his brass lamp again. He hasn't got the lungs for the deep seams anymore, so what does he need it for? The masters dock our wages for brittle iron, so a working man has to make do. It shines better down there in my hands.
the Monday after Easter, at Terce
I stand by young Frantishek. Udo wants his old rusty axe back, the one that belonged to his late brother Edward, God rest him. But the lad sweat blood for the old man. If a lad earns a tool through hard work, it rightfully belongs in his belt.
Aye, thank you, Lawrence. I broke my back for him all winter. Edward's axe is better off with me.
Nota scribaeDictated outside the cellar. The widow yelled at us to move from her door.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Drahomira wanted her weekly groschen before the bells even finished ringing. A man can hardly sleep for the cold, and she's there with her hand out. I had to use Karl's best hewing pick today just to meet the tally. I'll return it to him when he truly needs it.
I truly need it tomorrow, you whoreson. Hand it over before the morning shift.
You've been saying that since Lent began. We all know you're keeping it.
Candlemas, at Compline
Udo is shivering with a lung fever. They say half the town is sick. He lent me his good brass lamp for my descent today. The air in the deep shafts is thin, but that lamp cuts through the black like a holy sword. I'll hold onto it while he rests.
Poor Udo. But if he dies of the fever, at least he won't have to pay the masters for tools no more.
Nota scribaeHe admired the brass lamp the entire time he spoke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you bought a jug once in a while, it might wash the dust from your throat. Christ almighty, you're a sour one.