seamstress doing piece-work, of Kuttenberg
“I am a seamstress taking whatever piece-work I find. I fight for every penny to survive.”
Things Constance Polner had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
The spring muster is coming and I am expected to show my padded jack to the bailiff. I gave it to Milada for safe keeping and the fool pawned it for flour. Now how am I to pay the fine? People in this town take everything.
Nota scribaeShe was jabbing her finger at the church wall as she spoke.
the Thursday after Easter, at Terce
Sybil Thatcher is shouting about the town that I stole her tailoring shears. I stole nothing! She owes me a half-groschen for firewood from Candlemas. The shears are a pledge until she pays her silver. A woman needs good tools to do decent piece-work.
You took them when I asked for help cutting winter cloth! Give them back this instant, you thief.
Pay for your firewood first, Sybil, and stop acting so pious.
the second Sunday of Lent, at None
Lettice Green needs to stop weeping over her dead mother Margery and weeping over that lost thimble. Tears mend no cloaks and bake no bread. I patched three tunics today and fought a merchant's clerk for my full wage. If you do not fight, you starve.
My mother gave me that thimble before the fever took her. You have a stone where your heart should be, Constance.
Nota scribaeDictated in the lower market. The clerk in question was standing not ten paces away.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Yarka Carter is a fool for waiting on Julian. The boy drank his wages and marched to Hungary with the levy to run from his debts, not to win any fortune. With soldiers on the roads and bread dearer, a sensible woman relies on herself.
He is fighting bravely for the King, not running! You only say this because you trust no one.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
The frost is wicked and biting to the bone. I gathered a good bundle of firewood to keep us from freezing in the loft. Sybil begged some off me, promising a half-groschen. We all do what we must, but I will make sure she pays.
God bless you for the fire, Constance. I thought my toes would freeze off in the night.
Nota scribaeShe brought the firewood into the church to dictate this, dropping snow on the flags.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I was starving, Constance! You remember the frost. What good is a padded jack to a dead woman?
It is good for not paying the bailiff's fine, you fool! You should have kept your wits about you.