hired hand at the smelting furnaces, of Kuttenberg
“I am an honest man caught in a bad season, scraping by on whatever coin I can find.”
Things Wolfgang had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
The spring muster is too close, sakra. I heard the captains will call the roll soon. A man needs to look sharp, but old Erhard will not open his iron grate unless a fellow has the silver in his hand. If anyone has five groschen to spare, I will pay it back twofold by St John's day, heh heh.
Nota scribaeHe spoke quickly and kept looking over his shoulder toward the lower town.
the Tuesday after St George, at None
Foreman Karl is a bastard for making us bring our own tools to the yard. The masters should provide the axes themselves. How is a man to chop their wood if he has no silver to buy iron? At least I have this fine work axe to keep my hands busy, bloody hell.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
The older hands do nothing but moan about the cold and their aching backs. Old Veit is stomping around the yard shouting about his missing broadaxe. I keep to myself and chop my wood. A clever man stays clear of a furious ox.
If I find the bastard who took my broadaxe, I will bury the handle in his skull.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted by a fit of nervous laughter.
the Monday after St Gregory, at midday
Bread is dearer this week than last. I bought a stale loaf with borrowed pennies and chewed it by the yard wall. The Hungarians are out there eating the country bare, and we are starving in Kuttenberg, bloody hell. I would rather be drinking in the tavern than freezing in the wind.
Adelheid used to say hunger was God's way of testing our patience. I miss her.
Nobody wants to hear about your dead wife again, David. We are all hungry.
Nota scribaeHe wiped his mouth with his sleeve before speaking.
Candlemas, at Terce
The winter is freezing the blood in my veins, sakra. I found a fine padded jacket lying about, practically abandoned. A man has to keep warm, heh heh. But Erhard offered me terrible rates for the cloth and the steel rivets. I spent what little coin he gave me on ale to forget the frost.
Konrad would never pawn another man's gear. He was an honorable soldier.
Where exactly did you find this abandoned jacket, Wolfgang? I am missing mine.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You had best not be talking about my padded jacket, Wolfgang. I want it back before Sunday.
I have not seen your jacket, Lawrence. I swear by the Holy Mother it must have been some soldier.