alley worker at the camps, of Kuttenberg
“I survive in this bloody town one day at a time, and I am better at it than the rest of the miserable girls. You either take what you need or you freeze.”
Things Sibyl had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at None
Sakra, my jaw is throbbing. Three days ago a drunk digger gave me a heavy blow when I asked for my coin first. Now it is purple, and the market wives chased me off with brooms, screaming about the pox. If some kind soul fetches me three onions for a drawing poultice, I will gladly pay them and ask no questions.
Nota scribaeDictated while holding a cold stone to her cheek.
the Saturday after St George, at Vespers
Albrecht comes sniffing for his rent tomorrow. The other girls are weeping, but I went out into the cold and found men coming off the shift. I always charge an extra copper if they are drunk and heavy-handed. They pay it, and I will have my rent.
You think you are so clever. Wait until one breaks your back like Dietrich did mine in ninety-nine.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Avice tumbled down the cellar steps blind drunk and took a fever. Berchta is cowering in the corner, snivelling that it is the sweating sickness. What a coward. I told her to stop wailing or she can sleep out in the mud.
I am not a coward, Sakra! People die of the sweat, and Veit is gone to Prague so I cannot even pawn anything to leave.
Nota scribaeThe woman spoke quickly and defensively.
the eve of St Gregory, at Compline
I am sick of Hedvika and old Kunigunde fighting over a single tin plate. Hedvika is too proud for her own good, and Kunigunde thinks we should all pity her broken spine. We all freeze the same down here.
It is my plate, and Berchta already stole my gambeson! I will not let the old cripple take what is mine.
Candlemas, at Terce
Ellen is howling that I took her brass basin. Sakra, I covered a freezing shift for her last winter, and she owes me. I am keeping it to wash myself, and the matter is settled.
It is my basin! Give it back, you thief! You cannot just steal a good brass bowl because you felt cold last year.
I am not a thief, I am taking my due. Find another bowl.
Nota scribaeShe clutched a brass basin tightly the entire time.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It looks foul, Sibyl. You will scare off all the shifts tonight looking like a corpse.