housekeeper for her family, of Kuttenberg
“I keep my father and siblings fed and the hearth fire lit, which is more than most around this courtyard manage. If the landlord's clerk comes sniffing, he will find no spare pennies here.”
Things Denise Cross had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
Marion and the younger girls are weeping because Saint John's day approaches and they pawned the padded jacks they bought for the town levy. I sit dry by the hearth and laugh at them. I told them you cannot eat a jack, but nobody listens.
Nota scribaeThe woman spoke very fast, with her arms crossed over her chest the entire time.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Kubyenka's clerk was here again demanding the quarter's rent. I told him I would pay in full when he pays a thatcher to fix the rotting roof. He says straw is too dear. I wish Kubyenka's fine Prague manor would burn to the ground so he knows how it feels.
Amen to that. Every time it rains we are swimming in our own beds.
the Monday after Saint Gregory, at Sext
My father sits by the fire all day complaining about the cold, but lifts not one finger to mend the wattle. Now Bohushka has a terrible chill from sleeping under the hole in the roof. If anyone leaves the door open today I will strike them with my washing paddle.
The wind blows straight through the walls, girl. A man my age needs a warm hearth.
I will find some scrap wood at the works tomorrow and patch what I can, sister.
Nota scribaeShe gripped the washing paddle as she spoke.
the first week of Lent, at None
I hurried to the well and back to avoid the older women arguing over pawnbroker tickets. They stand there like clucking hens all morning. I have clothes to scrub and supper to boil. Some of us do not have time to gossip about spilled slops.
You could stand to learn a little respect for your elders, Denise.
Candlemas, at Prime
Trying to light the hearth with green wood while my father mutters from his bed. The smoke is blinding. Praying to Saint Barbara that Mikesh brings home some decent root vegetables today, because there is nothing left in the sack but dust.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is easy for you to mock, Denise. We were only trying to do our part for the town.
Your part is looking like fools when the bailiff sees you have no gear. Mind your own purse next time.