Maurice

the Wednesday before Whitsun, at None

Another hired hand came down my stairs today asking if I was dead yet. Oswald's coin, I know it. Tell that whoreson miner his guilt will not buy me bread or heal this rot. I do not need his bloody pity, nor his strangers staring at me in the dark.

• 
  Oswald

  I only wanted to know you still breathed, Maurice. God knows I see that wagon in my sleep.

• 
  Maurice

  Then sleep with your eyes open, you blind bastard.

Nota scribaeDictated from a foul-smelling pallet. He spent half the time coughing a wet rattle.

the feast of St Stanislaus, at Vespers

I am lying here with a leg black as pitch and burning with fever, and Menhard still has not brought back my best hook. I cannot march over to the mill to break his jaw. If one of you sees him, tell him he is a thief and a coward.

• 
  Menhard

  I will bring it when you are back on your feet, Maurice. It is no use to you in that cellar.

• 
  Maurice

  I will bury it in your skull when I catch you.

the eve of St George, at Prime

My life is ruined. Oswald looked away from the wheels and the timber shifted. Crushed my leg to a pulp. Prokop struck my name from the crew before the dust even settled. Christ almighty, the pain is blinding. I need more ale.

• 
  Richard Ramhead

  A bad break, lad. I will bring down a jug of small beer later.

Nota scribaeThe man was feverish and wept, though he demanded I not write that down.

the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Sext

Hauled ten carts of oak today. The strongest back at the Italian Court, Prokop knows it. But a loaf of bread costs twice what it did last year with these soldiers on the roads. King Sigismund's men eat everything before it reaches the town.

• 
  James

  Aye, and Drslav hoards the silver while we sweat.

Candlemas, at Compline

Lent my best iron hook to Menhard today for his work. It cost me a month's wages. He swore by the Virgin he would bring it back to me by Sunday. We will see.

• 
  Menhard

  You will have it, brother, worry not.