son of the radnicni house, of Kuttenberg
“I run errands and keep my head down. If I had the coin, I would leave my father's house today and never look back.”
Things William Marsh had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
My father Nicholas calls himself 'von Marsh' now and says Emma is beneath us because she smells of lye. I would take the tanner's yard over this shouting house any day. If anyone will speak for me to the priest, I will marry her anyway. I just need a little silver.
Nota scribaeThe lad kept looking over his shoulder toward the door the entire time.
the second Tuesday in May, at None
Poor Kunigunde is scrubbing the floors again, looking like she has not slept. Father Clement still will not give her the groschen Jarda hid under the church boards. He says it is God's silver now, for her unpaid tithes. I would say something, but I have no coin of my own.
The church roof is rotting, William. The Lord provides, and the Lord collects.
It was Jarda's sweat that earned it, not the Lord's.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Uncle John has lost his carved wooden top again. I spent the morning looking behind the barrels in the yard, but all I found was Claus complaining about the winter of ninety-nine. If anyone has seen John's top, tell me. It is the only thing that keeps him quiet.
It is not just a top, lad, it is good craftsmanship. Keep looking.
If Heinz had not stolen my silver, we could buy a hundred tops.
the feast of St Gregory, at Terce
The late frost is terrible today. Alice's back and hand are aching fiercely where that coward Geoffrey crushed her under his wagon. I wish I had the groschen for a proper barber-surgeon to ease her pain. Instead I just sit here and listen to Grandfather Heinz yelling over his supper.
It is just the cold, William. Do not trouble yourself.
I yell because nobody in this house respects the land Peter left us!
Nota scribaeHe spoke very fast and asked me not to read it back.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
There are too many hungry men on the roads now, begging for bread. I tried to walk to the edge of town to catch sight of Emma, but the watchmen are turning people away. Bread is dearer than last year, and my father just drinks wine and pretends he is a lord.
Can you look for my ribbon while you are out? I know I dropped it near the baker's.
Nota scribaeDictated in the market square. The word he used for his father was not 'lord'.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You will do no such thing, boy. I did not buy this title for you to throw it in a tanning vat.
I am not asking for your blessing anymore.