wool spinner and craftsman's wife, of Kuttenberg
“I am a dutiful wife and mother trying to keep a roof over our heads. A family must look to the winter before it comes, and pray for steady bread.”
Things Emma Carter had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday after Saint John before the Latin Gate, at Vespers
I saw Ottilie by the communal well today. The poor girl looks thin as a rake, skipping her meals. A young maid like that ought to find a steady husband to provide for her, not trouble her head with leasing town ovens. The council will surely want someone with a family to manage Walpurg's old share.
Nota scribaeDictated softly. She rubbed her thumb over her finger in a slow circle the whole time.
the third day of Easter week, at Terce
A penny saved is a shield against the dark. I sat spinning until my fingers bled last night. Hynek is busy cutting leather, and John and Yarka eat like horses, God bless them. The roads are foul with soldiers and bread is terribly dear, but we shall not starve if we are careful.
You work too hard, wife. Leave the spindle when the candle burns down.
The spindle buys our bread, Hynek. I will rest when the lockbox is heavy.
the feast of the Annunciation, at Sext
I spoke with Alice Thrush about the silver masters today. She knows how the Germans in the mint do their business. It is a blessing to have a sensible neighbor who knows how to hold her tongue, unlike some on this street who thieve shears and call it borrowing.
If you mean Albrecht's shears, I told him I would return the bloody things when he fixes my pot!
Do not let them rile you, Emma. The mint masters heed those who keep their affairs in order.
Nota scribaeShe looked toward Joan Green's window while dictating the latter part, her hands folded neatly.
the Wednesday of the first week of Lent, at None
Klara took the children to the church today. The house was finally quiet, and I could tend to our affairs in peace. So much coin goes out, and so little comes in. I count the groschen and pray the council does not raise the price of a certain lease before I am ready.
The children were good, Emma. Yarka did not fidget during the prayers at all.
Candlemas, at Prime
I lit a candle for old Walpurg today. God rest her soul, she was a fixture of this street. It is a sorrow she was taken at Martinmas, but the Lord opens doors when He closes them. I only hope her bakehouse share goes to steady, maternal hands that can manage it.
I heard a stray dog barking three nights before she passed. It is an ill omen, we should have known the angels were coming for her.
Dogs bark every night in this town.
Nota scribaeThe woman dictating this did not look particularly sorrowful.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I am perfectly well, Emma. And quite capable of doing my own baking and minding my own purse.
I only speak out of Christian charity, Ottilie. A girl needs her strength.