maidservant to the marsh household, of Kuttenberg
“I am a tired widow who hauls water and scrubs soot for a master who pays in coppers. I want my silver back.”
Things Kunigunde had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Father Clement stood in the nave today and pointed at the rotting timbers, saying God provided the silver for a new roof. That silver was my Jarda's sweat, hidden under the altar boards! Nineteen kopy, stolen from a starving widow by a thief in holy robes. My back is breaking and he steals my widow's portion.
Nota scribaeDictated while she wrung out a mop. The priest's name was accompanied by a foul word which I have omitted.
the feast of St John before the Latin Gate, at None
Hauling water up the hill again. Master Nicholas shouted at me for spilling a drop, but it was young William brushing past me in a hurry. I know he was sneaking off to the tanner's yard to see Emma. At least Mistress Alice helped me lift the bucket the rest of the way, despite her bad leg.
If you paid attention to the bucket instead of my son's whereabouts, the floor would not be a puddle.
I only bumped you because I was late for the blacksmith, Kunigunde! Keep your nose out of the tanner's yard.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
The church bells rang loud yesterday, but all I could hear was the priest telling everyone I am months in arrears to the parish. How am I to pay when Master Nicholas pays me like a beggar? I am so tired my bones ache just looking at a broom. I am frightened of dying in the poorhouse.
We all have our burdens. If old Peter's will had been read right in ninety-nine, I would not be suffering in this cramped house either.
Nota scribaeShe rubbed her lower back the entire time she spoke, sighing heavily.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Sext
Three winters now since my Jarda coughed his last and left me to the lye and soot. He was a good provider, no matter what they say. He never trusted the silver masters or the town guards. I just wish the stubborn fool had told me which loose board he used before the fever took him.
Look behind the altar, my love. I saved it all for you, away from the guards.
He was a gruff man who rarely spoke at mass. Perhaps he is paying for his secrecy in purgatory.
Candlemas, at Terce
It is freezing in the scullery and the draft cuts right through my thin sack. Master Heinz was shouting so loud this morning I thought the roof would cave in. Just over some burnt porridge. Christ almighty, if I drop dead of the cold, they will just step over my body to get to the ale.
If the porridge was not burned to black ash, there would be no need for shouting!
Nota scribaeShe paused to cough and curse the master under her breath.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The Lord works in mysterious ways, Kunigunde. And you are still four months in arrears to the parish. Do not let greed rot your soul.
I am so sorry, Kunigunde. If my father would give me a few pennies, I would help you pay the arrears.
Keep your pennies, child. I want the nineteen kopy my Jarda choked on charcoal dust to save.