beggar near the market stalls, of Kuttenberg
“I try to scratch a living near the market stalls, though the town watch chases me like a stray dog.”
Things Itchy Roger had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St George, at None
Saint Wenceslas strike me, why does Musty Fritz get to sweep Mistress Magdalena's yard for warm crusts? He is a weak fool who misses half the dirt. I could do it better, if I wasn't chased off by the watch every time I cross the square.
Nota scribaeHe scratched his neck until it bled while saying this.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
If Sleepy Joerg mentions that washerwoman Clemence one more time, I will drown myself in a rain barrel. And Poxy Joerg does nothing but wail about the cold. We are all cold! Shut your mouths and let a man suffer in peace.
She smiled at me from the bathhouse yard yesterday. You only mock because no woman has ever looked at you.
I wail because my sores freeze to my tunic, you heartless whoreson.
the Friday after St Gregory, at Vespers
Gaunt Thomas tells lies about the march to Kolin. He was the one supposed to keep the fire going when we found that broken wagon. If he hadn't fallen asleep like a drunkard, young Lambert would not have frozen in that ditch. It wasn't me who left him.
I was gathering wet wood! You were awake in the dark, Roger. You heard the boy calling and you did not move an inch.
It was just the wind! I swear by Saint Wenceslas it was only the wind.
Nota scribaeHe looked over his shoulder twice to see if the bailiff's men were listening.
the Tuesday after St Matthias, at Terce
Praise be, I found a good spot near the cobblers' stalls this morning, until a watchman shoved his halberd in my chest. Squinty Jan took my place the moment I ran. A man cannot earn a single groschen in this town without the law at his heels.
The Lord provides for those who don't run like frightened sheep. I got two hellers from a fat merchant right after you left.
Candlemas, at Sext
Shabby John has the gall to look at me sideways. He is an older man, he should have taken charge when we found that cheap wine on the retreat. Instead he drank his fill while we froze. I heard the wind howling that night, nothing else.
We were all freezing. You sat there scratching yourself while Lambert went wandering off into the sleet. Don't put the boy's death on my soul.
Nota scribaeDictated near the dry cellars. The stench was profound.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep your eyes off my broom, Roger. Mistress Magdalena knows I sweep clean, and you would only scratch your arse instead of working.