maidservant at the wash-house, of Kuttenberg
“I boil the town guard's linen and scrub the grease from their padded jacks. Ten years at the tubs, keeping my head down.”
Things Barbara had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of St Sophia, at None
The captain is looking at the lists for the muster. I am taking on extra mending to cover a missing padded jack so he will not notice. Lord above, I hope he does not look too closely.
Nota scribaeDictated while she was sewing a sleeve. She stared at the floor the whole time.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
I pooled my groschen to buy a damaged gambeson, meaning to mend it for the captains. Now I hear Mathes holds it in his cellar because someone had debts to pay. I cannot bring myself to scream across the yard about it.
I would march down to that cellar and drag her by the hair. You let them walk all over you.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Vespers
Young Christina weeps all day over the camp sickness. I pity the girl, but Kuttenberg will eat her alive if she does not toughen up. You just have to endure the washing and pay Adelheid her lye fee.
It hurts my stomach and the lye burns my raw hands.
the second Wednesday of Lent, at Terce
Margery is shouting at Joan again over some pawned plates. I tell the younger girls to just let Margery win and save their breath. Silence gets the scrubbing done much faster.
She stole my plate! I will not be quiet.
Nota scribaeThe woman paused to rub her raw hands on her hips before speaking.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
I lent my best scrubbing board to Christine yesterday. It saves hours of raw skin against the rough wool, and I paid good coin for it. I hope she brings it back by evening, for I have a mountain of bloody linen to boil.
I only need it for one more pile of tunics, I swear it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You worry too much. I will have it back to you soon enough.