seamstress and washerwoman, of Kuttenberg
“I mend miners tunics until my eyes ache, but soon I will weave my own fortune.”
Things Vlasta Eldris had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
I saw Hedvika Tanner carrying a suspiciously light basket today. She is rushing her stitches so she can take on more work. Let her. A shoddy seam bursts in the mines, and they will bring their coin back to me. The broadloom will be mine yet.
Nota scribaeShe spent a long time rubbing her thumb and forefinger together before speaking.
the second Tuesday in May, at None
Edith is weeping over her leaking roof again. If you wait for Landlord Benesh to fix it, you will drown in your own bed. Just buy some thatch and patch it yourself. God helps those who keep their powder dry and their silver hidden.
It is easy to speak of buying thatch when your family is as rich as yours, Vlasta.
My familys wealth is their own. I make my own way with honest work.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
The price of bread has gone up again because of those Hungarian soldiers on the roads. It takes more mending just to buy a loaf. At least Thomas is safe at the mint, earning good silver. Not that I need a single penny from him.
And you will not get one, sister. The mint is barely keeping up with the Kings troubles.
Nota scribaeShe said she did not need a penny three times, though I only wrote it once.
the feast of St Gregory, at Terce
Washed ten heavy tunics this morning. The frost is still deep in the troughs, and my hands are raw. Apollonia says rubbing goose fat on them wards off the winter spirits that crack the skin. I think staying away from the water would work better, but the miners must be clean.
The winter spirits hate the fat of a goose. My grandmother swore by it.
Candlemas, at Sext
The priest says the Pope wants our days recorded. Very well. I mend clothes. It is honest work and my family is well off, but I choose to stand on my own feet. I only need a little more coin to buy the late Marthas broadloom from her nephew.
Sixty groschen is a steep hill, Vlasta. I reckon I am closer to the peak than you.
Nota scribaeDictated at the washing troughs. She kept looking over her shoulder at Hedvika Tanner.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My stitches are as tight as your purse, Vlasta. We will see who speaks to Marthas nephew first.