maidservant at the wash-house, of Kuttenberg
“I wash linen for the garrison. Sakra, it's hard work, hauling water and lye all day, but it puts a crust of bread in my belly.”
Things Anna had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Compline
Sakra, the spring muster is so close I can hear the captains shouting in the square. I cannot sleep. My hands are cracked to bleeding from the lye, but it's not the pain keeping me awake. I pray to the Virgin that Emma gets sent to the upper town tomorrow and forgets what she asked me to hold for her.
Nota scribaeShe bit her lip so hard it bled while dictating this.
the second day of Rogation days, at Vespers
I went to the iron grate today. He just laughed at me. Fat spider. How am I supposed to find the groschen when Adelheid takes half of what the Hungarians pay us just for the hot water? My feet ache from walking up the hill.
If you scrubbed faster instead of daydreaming about your hair, you'd have more coin. Stop your whining.
Interest is interest, girl. The grate stays locked until you have the silver.
Nota scribaeShe used many words to describe the moneylender that I have chosen not to write.
the Tuesday after Easter, at None
Christina was weeping in the cellar again today, so I took her shift at the troughs. The water was freezing, and the blood on those Hungarian tunics is so thick it takes three scrubbings. Sakra, I dropped the soap in the muck and Margery yelled at me for an hour.
the feast of St Gregory, at Terce
They say the Pope wants everything written down. Why does the Holy Father care about a maidservant's cracked hands? I suppose it's better than thinking about Clara. I still smell the sickness sometimes when I walk past her old cot. God rest her soul, she was the only one who knew how to mend those padded jacks right.
Clara was a fool to start buying that gear, but she didn't deserve the fever. Say a prayer for her.
She left us a right mess with those debts, God rest her.
Nota scribaeDictated while hauling a bucket from the public well. The water splashed my boots.
the day after Candlemas, at Prime
The winter was so bitter I thought I would freeze to the pallet. I had to do something just to buy a loaf of bread. Sakra, I didn't mean to cause trouble, but a girl has to eat. I just hope the spring brings better wages from the garrison.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Anna, I haven't forgotten. I need that gear back. The soldier I bought it for is asking.
Sakra! I am looking for it, Emma. I put it somewhere safe so the rats wouldn't chew it.
Don't cry, Anna. I'll help you look tomorrow if my head stops pounding.