hired hand at the smelting yard, of Kuttenberg
“I keep my head down and haul the heavy ore. The young fools in the loft can drink themselves to the gallows for all I care.”
Things David had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St Urban, at Vespers
The spring muster will soon be upon us. Markvart and Wolfgang took the gambesons Edmund bought them and pawned them at Erhard's grate for tavern coin. When the captains find them empty-handed, they will be sent to the vanguard to die. I have no pity left for them.
Nota scribaeDictated in a slow mumble. The man rubbed his eyes with a soot-stained hand throughout.
the first day of May, at None
I spent another evening crawling on my hands and knees in the dirty straw. Adelheid's carved wooden bead is still lost. I wake up in a cold sweat fearing the day they sweep the loft out with the horse dung. My memory of her face grows thinner every year.
We will find it, David. I will help you look before prime tomorrow.
the Thursday after Easter, at Compline
The new lads at the yard do not know how to carry the sacks without tearing their shoulders. I saw Foreman Karl send two away to starve before midday because they dropped the silver ore. You must pace yourself, step steady, and keep your broadaxe sharp.
Karl is a tyrant. He checks my hands as if I am a thief.
He checks your hands because you hold an axe like a child holding a spoon.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of woodsmoke and sweat. I asked him to stand further back from the parchment.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Franz is an absolute fool. Veit lent him his best broadaxe out of pure charity so the boy would not miss work. Now Veit is well, and Franz refuses to return it, bleating about three groschen owed for some medicinal broth. A stolen tool gets a man killed.
I paid for the broth that saved his life! I keep the axe until my coin is returned.
You poured dirty water down my throat and stole my livelihood. Give it back.
Nota scribaeI advised him against calling his neighbour a thief upon the public record, but he was quietly insistent.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
Veit caught a harsh fever at Candlemas and is shivering up in the loft. He gave his broadaxe to young Franz to take his shift for Foreman Karl. A foolish kindness. I am covering Veit's slate with the ale-wife until he can stand on his own two feet again.
A good deed, David. The winter air is bitter this year.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
We were thirsty, old man. A gambeson does not fill the belly.
I bought that gear to keep your stupid heads on your shoulders. You are a disgrace.