ore-washer at the stamping mill, of Kuttenberg
“I wash silver ore and try to save my pennies. It is bitter work, but I have my mother to think of, if only the others would leave me be.”
Things Juliana had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
Isabel leaves for Caslav soon, and still she refuses to take word to my poor deaf mother. She says Kolin is the other way, but surely a good Christian would walk the extra miles for an old woman who thinks her daughter died in the mud. It is horribly cruel.
the second Tuesday of May, at None
That German master Peter docked my wages again today. He shouted from his counting house that salt water does not clean silver, just because I was weeping into the trough. I cannot help the tears, the water is like ice and my fingers are cracked to the bone.
He pays exactly on time, Juliana. If you spent less time crying and more time sorting, your purse would be heavier.
Nota scribaeShe wiped her nose on her sleeve throughout the dictation.
the fourth day of Easter week, at Prime
Barbara is shouting at me again about the bundle of clothes lost on the march back from Maleshov. God as my witness, I was too sick to carry it. It is not my fault the soldiers made us march in the rain, or that poor Standa died lifting that cursed cart wheel.
the first week of Lent, at Terce
I put a penny in the poor box for my mother Eleanor in Kolin. I fear she believes I perished among the mercenaries last autumn. If only someone would carry a letter north. The bailiff dragged us away and I have had no peace since.
Do not cry, Juliana. Standa gave up his own blanket for us in that terrible camp. We survived, praise be.
Nota scribaeThe woman sobbed loudly while speaking, making the words difficult to catch.
the day after Candlemas, at dawn
The troughs are frozen over this morning. I thought my hands would fall off before the sun came up. I smell of wet earth and sulphur and I am so very tired. At least in the widow's house we have each other's warmth, even if the soup is nothing but hot water and cabbage.
Aye, the ice is thick today. But the cabbage soup is better than starving, so eat it and be glad.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Christ almighty, Juliana, Caslav is south and Kolin is north. I am not walking across the whole bloody country for an old woman who does not even know you are gone.