maidservant in Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“Ten years I have scrubbed the floors of Kuttenberg, and my hands show every day of it.”
Things Martha had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at None
These Hungarian bastards track mud over the floors faster than I can haul water to wash it. If the Lord is just, they will all march into a bog. Sybil, put that boiling stick down, it is not yours.
Nota scribaeShe wiped her hands on her apron five times while dictating.
the Tuesday after St George, at Vespers
Lord save us from the foolishness of young girls. Gerta has pawned Isolde Weaver's padded jack for a handful of flour. When the master finds his war gear gone, the bailiff will take her ear. I warned her.
I was hungry! A jack cannot fill a belly.
My jack! Christ almighty, Gerta, I will drown you in the copper tub!
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
I dropped the bread knife this morning. It stuck point down in the floorboards. The Virgin's wrath is coming for me, I know it. I have not made the barefoot walk to Sedletz yet, and I still have no silver penny. Sakra.
Do not fret, Martha. The Virgin knows your purse is empty.
The saints do not care about my purse, Matilda. A vow is a vow.
Nota scribaeShe crossed herself three times.
the Friday before Laetare Sunday, at Sext
I told Matilda her soft heart would ruin her. She lent a good brass-bound beetle to Isolde, and now her hands are empty. A girl without her tools is no use to anyone.
Ash Wednesday, at Compline
My father Walter died of the winter sickness today. His chest gave out. He was a good man who whittled spoons for the children. I swore to the Mother of God that if I survive this fever, I will walk barefoot to Sedletz and give a silver penny.
God rest his soul. Up in heaven he will not be coughing anymore.
He never shouted at any of us. A gentle soul.
Nota scribaeThe woman was weeping into her frayed woollen shawl.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I only wanted to hold it. What if we have to run again?
Let her be, Martha, the girl is rattled.