miner in the silver adits, of Kuttenberg
“I am the cleverest whoreson hauling rock in Kuttenberg, dodging the long shifts while the old fools break.”
Things Anthony had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The muster is coming and the bailiff will have his lash out. That bastard Casper has locked his stone house on the square and takes no visitors. How is a man to redeem his kit if the pawnbroker hides? I need a gambeson before Sunday or my back will bleed.
Nota scribaeDictated while leaning against the tavern wall. He spat on my boots.
the feast of St John before the Latin Gate, at None
Prokop had his eye on me at the morning muster, glaring like a butcher at a calf. I slipped the tallyman half a groschen and took a sorting shift above ground. Let Albrecht and Havel break their backs in the wet galleries over their lent pick.
the third day of Easter week, at Compline
Ernest will not stop whining about his mother. He thinks the soldiers have eaten her or some such nonsense. I told him tears will not fill his belly and she is likely in a ditch anyway. A man should look to his own ale and leave the dead to priests.
God will punish you for your cruel tongue, Anthony. She is a good woman and three days' walk from here.
Nota scribaeThe boy Ernest was weeping during the dictation. I told them both to be quiet.
the second week of Lent, at Terce
A good week for drinking. I took that heavy linen gambeson down to the pawnbroker and Casper gave me silver enough for days. Ernest gave it to me to save my hide from the pillory, but the soft lad owed me from a wager at Martinmas. A fool and his coin.
You drank the silver in three days, Anthony. And now you have nothing for the muster.
Nota scribaeHe smelled strongly of cheap ale and pride.
the day after St Blaise, at Prime
There was a grand scuffle at the tavern last night. The watch came in and overturned the tables. In the mess, I threw a winning hand against the old miner and claimed his lucky bone die. The old fool says I stole it, but it is mine by right.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
That was my gambeson you gave him, Anthony. You swore it was a wager, but you owe me the silver!
A wager is a wager, lad. Stop weeping like you do for your mother in the north.