seamstress at the lower wash-house, of Kuttenberg
“I have the fastest bone needle in the parish and a ledger full of fools who owe me.”
Things Else had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
If Marion Mailer thinks she is getting her padded jack back without paying the groschen she owes, she is a fool. The spring muster is coming. If I do not see my coin by Sunday, it goes to a Hungarian mercenary for hard silver.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Christina is weeping into the lye again about the camp sickness. I told her to shut her mouth and scrub. Tears do not get the blood out of Hungarian surcoats, and Adelheid still wants her cut of our earnings.
Nota scribaeShe tapped her foot impatiently the entire time she spoke.
the Tuesday before Palm Sunday, at Prime
I went to the square to deal with Mathes the pawnbroker. The fat spider beat me down on the price of a fine Cuman belt. I hate the whoreson, but he knows his numbers. Half this wash-house will be in the debtors' prison by summer.
the Wednesday after St Gregory, at Sext
That useless arse Joan took the damaged jack I bought and pawned it for ale. I was going to patch that kit and sell it at a profit. I want the value of the gear returned immediately, or I swear I will take it out of her hide.
It was barely holding together anyway! You are making a fuss over rags.
They were my bloody rags, you thief.
Nota scribaeDictated at the wash-house. The air smelled strongly of wet wool and lye.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Terce
Since Clara died of the fever, our mending business is a mess. Anna pawned gear another maid paid for, and Christina has had Barbara's best scrubbing board for a week. Barbara is a fool for not taking it back by force.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You scheming arse, I said I would pay you when the quartermaster pays my husband!