the Tuesday before Ascension, at None
That snivelling thief Berchta pawned my padded Cuman coat to Veit for scraps, and now Veit has gone to Prague. If I do not have it back before the soldiers muster, I will beat her bloody.
Nota scribaeDictated in the upper town. She pointed a stiff finger at the inkhorn.

I was freezing to death! You threw it over me in the night!
It was a loan, you stupid cow, not a gift to sell.