mason at the town works, of Kuttenberg
“Listen here, I work stone and lay brick, and never has a wall of mine needed doing twice.”
Things Richard Miller had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the feast of Saint Pancras, at Terce
The damp is in my bones today. My knees are screaming, but I still beat the young lads to the gates at first light. I just want to put in my hours and be left in peace, but Roger Wood is already whining about his thirst.
the eve of Saint Mark, at Sext
Listen here. Zdenyek Miller has asked me three times to run a letter to his brother outside the district. Three times I said no. I patch walls, I am not a bloody messenger boy. I swear by Christ's wounds, if he asks a fourth time, I will break his nose.
My family has heard nothing for a long while. You have no burdens, Richard, it would cost you nothing to walk.
Aye, you are a stubborn old mule. Just take the man's letter.
Nota scribaeThe man was clutching a brick the entire time he spoke.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Vespers
Geoffrey Thatcher and Joerg Muller are sweating like pigs because the bailiff is making his muster roll. Listen here, lads. If you wanted to stay out of the king's army, you should have learned a proper trade. They can march off to the mud and leave us old men in peace.
Master Ernest took the king's coin three winters ago and died in the mud. It is no laughing matter.
the feast of Saint Joseph, at Prime
Listen here, the ash they sell as bread in this mud-hole would crack a man's teeth. My sister Johanka married a baker in Prague ten winters ago. They make proper loaves there, white as snow. If I had any sense I'd have gone with her.
We know how many loaves her husband bakes, Richard. You tell us every day.
Nota scribaeHe spat on the ground before dictating this.
the Monday of the second week of Lent, at Compline
Listen here. The new clerk at the Italian Court is a whoreson who skims the groschen. Old Humphrey never cheated us before he broke his neck on Saint Martin's day. I laid fifty bricks before None with my knees aching like the devil, and what do I get? Barely enough for the week.
Humphrey was a clumsy fool to fall, but at least he paid us fair.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you lent me a single groschen I would not have to complain, Richard.
Listen here, I know it would go straight to the ale-wife. Go thirsty.