mending woman, of Kuttenberg
“I patch tunics and heavy stockings for my bread. I try to keep quiet and stay out of the loud women's way.”
Things Lettice Green had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Terce
I walked the path from the tenement to the church steps again this morning. The mud is drying, but I saw no gleam of brass. I fear someone has picked it up.
Nota scribaeShe stared at her bare fingers the entire time she spoke.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Drahomira Green was complaining again today. I wish they would all lower their voices in the alley, the shouting makes my stomach turn. I hide near the stairwell when they begin to argue.
If you had Lucy Baker hounding you to walk messages to the villages every day, you would raise your voice too, Lettice.
the Wednesday after St Gregory, at Vespers
A man gave me a penny to patch his heavy woollen stockings. It is hard work without my mother's thimble. My thumb is entirely raw and scarred from the needle, but I am thankful for the coin.
Wrap a bit of leather around your thumb, Lettice. That is what I do when the cloth is thick.
Nota scribaeShe wept quietly into her shawl before paying the fee.
St Matthias's Day, at Sext
There are Hungarian soldiers walking near the church today. I hid by the stairwell until they passed. I am too frightened to go out and look in the dirt while they are near.
They only want ale and meat, girl. They will not look twice at a mender in a cellar.
the eve of Ash Wednesday, at Prime
I have lost it. My mother Margery's brass thimble fell from my pocket somewhere near the church. It is the only thing I had left of her. I must find it.
It is probably swallowed by the mud by now, or a beggar took it for a farthing. Stop crying over it.
Nota scribaeDictated at the church steps. She could barely speak for trembling.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You will wear out your eyes looking for a piece of cheap brass, girl. Buy a bone one and be done with it.
It belonged to my mother Margery. I cannot just buy another.