mender of heavy canvas, of Kuttenberg
“I sit behind the mint and mend thick canvas and miners' shirts. It is honest work, but the pay barely buys a crust of bread.”
Things Annabel had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The summer muster is drawing near and my hands are shaking so badly I snapped another bone needle. They say Thomas the quartermaster is expected back from Prague. If he asks to see the town's tents, I am a dead woman.
Nota scribaeShe twisted a loose thread on her sleeve the entire time she spoke.
the second day of May, at None
I took my watered beer outside today. I owe the ale-wife near thirty groschen for bread and drink since Lent, and I cannot bear her looking at my shears. Without my tools I cannot eat.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Prime
Easter has come and gone, and the town council has not paid the silver groschen they promised. A body cannot eat promises. I had to leave some unfinished canvas with the broker just to buy flour. God forgive me.
It is that old bastard Thomas to blame. He rode off to Prague and left us to starve.
Nota scribaeShe asked that the part about the broker be struck out, then wept and said it did not matter.
the third week of Lent, at Sext
Went to the well at midday to rub the cramp from my hands. Eleanor and Beatrice were shouting themselves hoarse over a smoothing iron again. I kept my eyes on the mud. Better to stitch in silence than invite the town's eyes.
the Thursday after Candlemas, at Vespers
They buried Anne's mother Emma today. The chest fever took her quick. She used to fight the vat-masters for our wages, and the whole street is poorer without her. Poor Anne is at the tavern again.
Emma was a fierce soul. She made sure we got our due from the dye-vats.
Nota scribaeDictated in the alley behind the mint.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You had best have those leather jacks and tents finished, Annabel. I will not swing from the pillory for your slow stitching.
I am working as fast as my hands allow, Sybil. The seams are thick.