hired hand at the wall works, of Kuttenberg
“I do honest digging for my three groschen and make sure I keep my pay. A man has to look out for his own survival in this town, kurva, because the masters will not.”
Things Julian had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after St John Before the Latin Gate, at Vespers
Havel is still whining about the pry-bar he lent to that other digger. I told him he is a fool. If you want a thing back, go and demand it like a man. Kurva, it is not my fault if he is too soft to face the fellow.
Nota scribaeHe spoke very fast and paced around the room while dictating.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Frantishek pays four groschen to sleep in a shed where the thatch is missing a patch as wide as a cart wheel. Renting anywhere near the baker's alley is just asking to be swindled by that locked-up widow. At least my cellar corner is dry.
It is a roof, Julian. With all these refugees crowding the town, I am lucky to have it.
You will freeze to death in there before St John's day, Frantishek.
the eve of Palm Sunday, at Compline
Bartel cornered me outside the tavern again about his heavy pick. I told him friends must help each other through this hard spring. I need it for one last trench job, otherwise the foreman will treat me like a boy and pay me two groschen. Why make such a fuss over a few days?
You finished that trenching three weeks ago, you whoreson. Bring it to the square tomorrow.
Kurva, there is new clay to break. Do you want me to starve in the streets?
Nota scribaeHe smelled strongly of cheap ale and spat on the floor.
the feast of St Gregory, at Sext
Bread is dearer again today. These hungry men from the burned villages come here and work for half the wage, and now the bakers want more coin. I shared a jug with Jezhek and pawned my spare boots. Up in heaven there will be no soldiers eating our grain.
We will drink the cheap stuff until the war moves on, lad.
Candlemas, at Vespers
The foreman Robert stood in the courtyard and swore that any man arriving at the wall works without his own heavy tools will get docked a groschen. Christ almighty. I had to borrow a blackened iron pick from Bartel just to keep my wage. A man has to survive.
Make sure you wipe the mud off the haft before you give it back, Julian.
Robert is a bastard. I had to buy a shovel off a smith for five groschen.
Nota scribaeDictated in a rush, with much complaining about the Italian Court.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
That is rich coming from you, Julian. Give Bartel his iron pick.
I need it to finish the trenching by Sunday, Havel. It is completely different.