washerwoman of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I wash the miners' dirt out of their shirts and try not to starve. Everyone in this yard whines too much.”
Things Elsbeth Holz had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the feast of Saint Urban, at Vespers
Amice Clark is still shouting about her padded jack. I told her to wait until Saint John's day. Does she think I eat rocks? Grain costs dear, and I pawned the bloody thing to buy bread. She'll get it back when I have the groschen.
Nota scribaeShe spat on the floor of the chancery after saying this.
the feast of Saint Mark, at None
Christina is at me again to carry her letter to her family near Prague. I've never left Kuttenberg. There are Cumans and mercenaries on the roads, and I'm not walking into Sigismund's army for a scrap of parchment. Find someone else.
It's only a letter, Elsbeth. My mother doesn't know if I am alive or dead.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
The rain hasn't stopped, and Kubyenka's rotting roofs are leaking again. Christine's useless husband hasn't patched a thing. Kubyenka fled to Prague two winters ago and leaves his clerk to squeeze our pennies while we sleep in mud. Christ almighty, landlords are a plague.
Andrew is doing his best! The thatch is rotten through.
My father does nothing but grumble about the damp. It's miserable.
Nota scribaeThe woman smelled strongly of lye and wet wool.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Sext
Another morning in the muddy trench scrubbing miners' tunics. The lye has burned my hands until they bleed, and the water from the town well is freezing. Then Marion Mailer comes by panicking over her botched pawning scheme. Fools, the lot of them.
It is not a botched scheme! I just need more time before the bailiff's whip finds me.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
They say the King is still held by his brother. All I know is that bread costs twice what it did last year, and Christine Alder's stepsons won't stop shouting across the yard. If the soldiers don't kill us, the starvation will.
Save your groschen, Elsbeth. Humphrey the grave-digger will want his due when the time comes.
Nota scribaeDictated in the courtyard. She seemed very tired.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You took my coin to buy that jack for the muster! Get it back from the lender or I'll tell the bailiff.
Tell the bailiff and I'll wring you out like a dirty shirt.