townsman of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I dig the far strip from dawn till dark while my lazy brother sits. I have no time for idle words.”
Things Anna Herzog had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The rye is coming up green, no thanks to Claus. He stood by the boundary stone today, arms folded, telling me I didn't dig deep enough near the ditch. I threw a clod of dirt at his fat head. Let him try digging it himself if he wants the coin so bad.
Nota scribaeShe demanded I write 'fat head' twice, but I refused.
the Feast of St Mark, at None
Ellen Grey walked past the field today, heading to Sedletz barefoot. I told her she should be looking out for mercenaries, not staring at the sky. A prayer won't stop a Hungarian's sword, but she just smiled. Sweet girl, but God's wounds, she's blind.
The Lord watches over those who keep their vows, Anna. You should rest your back on a holy day.
She's right to be careful on the roads. Too many men with nothing to lose out there.
the Monday after Easter, at Compline
Father sat by the fire tonight and said the far strip is looking well. I waited for him to say it was mine, to finally go to the bailiff and make it plain, but he just drank his ale and went to sleep. I am fighting a war with ghosts.
It is good land, Anna. You and Claus will see a fine harvest if you work together.
I know the feeling. My father was just the same. They want the peace of the grave without dying for it.
the first Wednesday of Lent, at Sext
Broke another spade handle on a rock the size of a pig. Isabel Hill slipped me an iron spade when nobody was looking. She knows what it's like fighting your own blood over a patch of dirt. At least someone in this town understands.
Keep it as long as you need, Anna. Don't let him take what's yours.
Nota scribaeDictated in the street. Her hands were raw with blisters.
Candlemas, at Prime
Claus brought up the far strip again at the feast yesterday. Right in front of the whole parish, telling everyone how he's going to manage the rye this year. I told him he manages nothing but his own arse on a bench. If he wants the land, let him dig it.
I was only speaking of the family's future. You always have to make a scene, Anna.
The family's future is me doing all the work. Keep your mouth shut.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You missed the ditch entirely, Anna. Father said we are to share the yield. I was just making sure the work was done right.
If you want to make sure it's done right, pick up a spade, you whoreson.