soldier at the mint, of Kuttenberg
“I stand on the walls of the Italian Court and freeze for the King. I just want my wages.”
Things Lawrence had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
Robert is going to beat Nicholas half to death before the feast. He keeps asking after that fine kettle hat he lent him. I know where it went, but I won't say. A man mourning his wife does foolish things, but a debt is a debt.
the feast of St Pancras, at Sext
Another lashing in the yard today over a spot of rust. They docked poor Fritz a groschen. Captain Michael would never have stood for this. He knew we were men, not dogs. The Italian Court feels like a prison since Christmas.
It was half a groschen, but the sting is the same. I miss the old captain.
Nota scribaeDictated near the kitchens. He rubbed his boots the entire time.
the second day of Easter week, at None
I cannot sleep for thinking of a certain hollow log near Maleshov. Kunz knows well what is rotting inside it, and my sister's bairns go hungry while he waits. We should split what we found and hang the officers.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at Prime
The wind off the silver mines cuts right through my padded jack. I stole a bit of tallow from the cooks to grease my boots. If I die in a ditch for King Wenceslas, at least my feet will be dry.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke very slowly and stared at my inkwell.
the second week of Lent, at Compline
I am sick of listening to Thomas and Tuma argue about who broke the line at Maleshov. Nobody broke the line. Vashek tripped in the brush and the Cumans were simply faster. Let the poor lad rest in the earth and hold your tongues.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you know where my hat is, Lawrence, you had better speak up before morning.
I told him it was lost in the armoury. Leave it be, Lawrence, I beg you.