beggar of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I sit by the church doors, keep my hands hidden, and pray for those who drop a penny in my bowl.”
Things Filthy Prokop had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
That travelling friar is said to be leaving before the feast. Agnus Dei. I am still three groschen short of the price of the pardon, and the new beggars from the burnt villages take all the pity. I have not eaten bread in two days to save every penny.
Nota scribaeThe man would not take his hands out of his sleeves while dictating.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Thomas came stumbling past my spot before dawn, cursing the rain because his roof leaks. Kyrie eleison. A man with a trade and a wage, weeping over a few drops of water, while I sleep against the church wall. It is a foolish world.
It is not a few drops! My bed is soaked through and Peter the landlord does nothing.
Give me the bed then, Thomas. I'll take a wet mattress over the cobbles.
the eve of St George, at Sext
Master Peter's carriage rolled past the market today and splashed mud across my bowl. He has never dropped a single coin for the poor, but goes to Prague seeking the archbishop's favour. May the road swallow his wheels. Miserere nobis.
I will say Amen to that. He squeezes us for rent and leaves the floors rotting.
Nota scribaeHe spat on the ground after saying the landlord's name.
the Thursday after St Gregory, at None
Joan Stone gave me a stale crust from the tavern today. She walks with a bad pain in her back, but she is a good woman. I will say a prayer for her health tonight. Ave Maria. I only wish my father Kunz would stop demanding my spot.
That spot by the doors was promised to me, boy. You only have it because my knees are stiff.
Eat the crust, Prokop, and stop muttering. My back is my own business.
Candlemas, at Terce
I heard a travelling friar has come to the district to sell letters of pardon. In nomine Patris. I have a great weight on my soul, and I must gather the copper to lift it. Every penny dropped in my bowl goes to the loose stone now.
What loose stone, Prokop? Where are you keeping this copper?
I meant my stomach, William. A figure of speech. I am as poor as a church mouse.
Nota scribaeDictated outside the church. He kept looking over his shoulder at the watchmen.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
There are bruised apples by my stall if you need them, Prokop. Do not starve for a piece of paper.
Three groschen? Since when do you have copper to count, brother? You still owe me from St John's Day.
I have nothing, Nathan. Only hunger. Domine exaudi.