maidservant at the wash-house, of Kuttenberg
“Lord above, I would rather carry clean shirts to the garrison than ruin my hands in the lye. A girl deserves a little joy in this town.”
Things Joan had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Lord above, Else will not let me be. The spring muster is coming and she wants that padded jack back. How was I to know the soldiers would need it so soon? Mathes the pawnbroker has it safe behind his iron grate, but he wants too much silver to give it back.
Nota scribaeShe sighed heavily three times while dictating this.
the second day of Easter week, at Terce
Grete is screaming murder over a tin plate I borrowed before Lent. Lord above, I only used it to serve a roasted capon to a handsome guardsman. He kissed my cheek and marched to Prague, so I kept the dish for the memory. Why begrudge me one tin plate?
It is my best plate, you thief! You can keep the memory, but give me back my tin!
Maundy Thursday, at Prime
Lord above, Adelheid is charging us more for hot water and lye than ever. Young Christina weeps all day about the camp sickness, which is exhausting to hear. I miss Clara. When Clara was alive, we used to sing at the wash-tubs, and the work did not seem so heavy.
The sickness is everywhere, Joan! God is punishing us for our sins.
Nota scribaeDictated at the ale-bench, smelling strongly of beer.
the feast of St Gregory, at None
The other girls ruin their knuckles scrubbing, but the Hungarian captains pay a better wage for a smile and clean teeth. I took an armful of heavy linen up to the garrison and came back with a handful of half-groschen. The soldiers sing so beautifully in the evening.
the Monday after Candlemas, at Compline
Else gave me a ripped padded jack to mend, but I took it to Mathes the pawnbroker instead. He gave me enough silver for a fine new ribbon. Lord above, I look beautiful in it. The soldiers will not need their winter gear before the spring anyway.
Where is the jack, Joan? I came to the cellar and it was gone.
Nota scribaeShe played with the ends of her hair the entire time.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You took my groschen and pawned the kit for a ribbon! Get it back before the Hungarians march, or I will drown you in Adelheid's tubs.
Lord above, Else, keep your voice down. I will find the coin.