mends sacks, grows cabbages, of Kuttenberg
“I work a strip of dirt outside the walls and mend sacks so I don't starve. If my father thinks he can run my life, he is a fool.”
Things Rose Vorsucher had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Bloody hell, the price of grain is madness. Half a groschen more than yesterday, all because of these hungry soldiers on the roads. I ate a heel of bread this morning and worked the dirt till noon. If I don't save enough soon, I'll be stuck in this cellar forever.
Nota scribaeShe asked if I had any pennies to spare. I did not.
the feast of St Mark, at None
Adam was shouting through the wall again last night. He says he has the right to the cabbage patch. He doesn't even know which end of a hoe goes in the earth! Let him sit in town and count his coins. I work the soil, it's mine.
It is my land, Rose. Father said so. You only scratch at it because you have nothing else.
You wouldn't know dirt if you fell face first into a pigsty, Adam.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Lettice was crying again today over that brass thimble. I told her straight to her face: the dead are dead, stop weeping over a piece of metal and get to work. God's wounds, we have enough real troubles.
It was my mother's! You have no heart, Rose.
The girl has no respect for anyone, Lettice. Don't listen to her.
the Thursday after St Gregory, at Sext
Father says I am forbidden to marry Philip, as if he thinks I am a witless child. The German masters at the mint lied about him taking that silver. He was framed! I don't care what my father says, I am saving my pennies.
The boy is a thief and he fled the bailiff. You will not speak his name again.
I will speak his name whenever I please! He is ten times the man you are.
Nota scribaeShe planted her hands on her hips and spoke very loudly.
Candlemas, at Terce
Mending these heavy hemp sacks tears my hands to pieces. But the calluses prove I don't need my father or Adam to feed me. Let them keep their vanity. I earned my groschen today.
Your hands are like bark, Rose. But at least you bought us some bread.
You are too loud, girl. The whole alley hears you.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is the same everywhere. My father says the soldiers take what they want and leave us the scraps.
Stop complaining so loud, girl. We all have empty bellies.