ore-washer at the stamping mill, of Kuttenberg
“I wash crushed silver ore in freezing water and freeze my hands for a few pennies. I am saving for a place at a decent loom so I can leave this damp hell.”
Things Milena had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at None
If a girl has something heavy and bright hidden in a clay jar under her cot, it does no good just sitting in the dirt. We should take it to a quiet man in town and be done with it. We could have real groschen by Sunday instead of shivering.
Nota scribaeShe lowered her voice to a whisper for this, though the whole room was listening.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
Alice is still wailing across the sorting troughs about last autumn. She says I should have traded my woollen shawl for bark and dirty water to save poor Standa. By all the saints, I would have frozen on the road, and God took him anyway. He tore his own gut.
the Feast of the Annunciation, at Prime
My hands are cracked raw from the stones. Dropped one piece of ore in the freezing mud this morning, and Peter the German docked me half a groschen. He sits in his dry counting house and watches us freeze. I swear by all the saints I will buy a loom soon.
He pays exactly on time, Milena. Keep your head down and hold the stones tighter.
Nota scribaeDictated with much waving of hands. I removed two curses against the foreman's mother.
the Monday after Saint Matthias, at Compline
Paid my rent pennies to Kunigunde. The soup tonight was nothing but hot water and a single sad cabbage leaf. I smell of wet earth and sulphur every hour God sends. I am too young for my hands to look like an old woman's.
We all eat the same thin soup. Dreaming of a loom won't put fat in the bowl.
Candlemas, at Terce
The king's brother has his soldiers on the roads, and the bakers use it as an excuse to charge another penny for a loaf. I have half a mind to march back to the militia camp, just to see if the mercenaries left any more silver lying in the mud.
Soldiers bring nothing but sorrow and dear bread. Stay in town, girl.
Do not speak of the mud. Do not speak of what is in it.
Nota scribaeShe looked quickly at Else when she said the last part, and coughed loudly.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep your voice down! The bailiff has ears everywhere. I am not standing in the pillory for your impatience.