mender at the Radnicni house, of Kuttenberg
“I do what light work my bad back and stiff hand allow, and try to keep the peace when the shouting starts.”
Things Alice Marsh had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Prime
The spring rain is a curse. I cannot flex my right hand at all this morning, and my back is stiff as a board. I am praying the summer sun bakes the ache out of my bones, before I become a full burden to this house.
Nota scribaeShe rubbed her curled fingers the entire time she spoke, wincing.
the eve of St Mark, at Vespers
My father is a fool to forbid William from seeing Emma. A bought noble title does not keep a man warm at night, but a good tanner's daughter might. I hope William sneaks out to the tanner's yard to see her anyway.
Hold your tongue, girl. She smells of lye and dog shit, and is beneath our station. He will marry blood, not a vat.
Thank you, sister. I do not care if she smells of lye. I would trade father's parchment for one hour with her.
the Wednesday after Easter, at Sext
Cecily has lost her blue ribbon somewhere in the street. I spent an hour bent over looking for it under the benches, and now my spine is weeping tears of its own. If anyone finds it, bring it to the Radnicni house so the child will stop wandering.
I am sorry your back hurts, Alice. I just wanted to look nice for the feast.
I carved a little wooden bird for her, Alice. Give it to her to make her smile, and rest your back.
Nota scribaeDictated from a stool. She could barely sit upright.
the feast of St Gregory, at None
Grandfather Heinz and Uncle Claus are screaming about great-grandfather Peter's land again, bringing up loans from ninety-nine. It is endless. I wish Peter had sold the dirt to the church and spared my ears. It is like trying to sleep in a smithy.
The land is mine by right, Alice! Claus is a thief who twists Peter's will to line his own purse.
You are a senile old badger. The silver I lent you in the winter of ninety-nine gives me the lease, and you know it!
the morrow of Candlemas, at Terce
My family still curses the carter Geoffrey for tipping his heavy wagon on me in the street, breaking my spine. But I do not. The poor man was terrified and fled to Prague out of fear. Carrying anger hurts worse than the crushed bones he left me.
He is a coward and a whoreson! If he ever shows his face in Kuttenberg again, I will break his spine with a hammer.
And that, Grandfather, is exactly why he ran away in the first place.
Nota scribaeShe asked that the part about her family cursing be struck out, but then sighed and let it stand.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I shall say a prayer for your relief at mass, child. The Lord sends us trials, but He also sends the sun in its time.
Come to the kitchen, Alice. I have heated some stones by the fire. You can sit with them against your spine while we fold the sheets.