soldier at the Italian Court, of Kuttenberg
“I guard the king's silver while my purse is empty, trying to teach these green boys.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the feast of St Philip and St James, at Sext
The wind off the moat is enough to freeze a man's marrow. I saw Lawrence and his shifty mate whispering again by the armory. Those two found something in the woods when we retreated, I would bet my last groschen on it. Sneaking around like thieves in the night.
Nota scribaeThe soldier smelled strongly of sour ale and spat on my boots twice while dictating this.
the Wednesday after Easter, at Vespers
Robert was moaning again about Nicholas pawning his good boots. I told him to stop his crying and punch the bastard in the teeth. If Captain Michael was still here, we wouldn't have this thieving. God grant the Captain returns from Prague soon.
the second week of Lent, at None
This new sergeant is a whoreson. He cares more about polished leather than whether a man can hold the line. If the Hungarians come, shiny boots will not stop a Cuman arrow. I need a drink, but my purse is as empty as a beggar's bowl.
Amen to that. I will buy you a pint tonight, Thomas. The old guard has to stick together.
Nota scribaeDictated outside the alehouse. He spent a long time describing the sergeant's mother.
the feast of St Gregory, at Compline
Walter ran at the first sign of blood, just like the coward he is. Hynek knows it, I know it. We need men on the wall, not green boys who weep when the fighting starts. Vashek was worth ten of him.
the Friday after Candlemas, at Prime
Tuma is a bastard and a coward. He broke formation in the woods, and because he panicked, Vashek took an arrow. If that boy had held his ground, my shield-mate would still be drinking with us. I will never forgive him, kurva.
You called the retreat too early! You left my flank open! Vashek's blood is on your hands, Thomas, not mine.
Say that to my face at the alehouse tonight and I will break your jaw.
Nota scribaeThe man was shouting so loudly the guard had to ask him to step away from the chapel.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Mind your own bloody business, Thomas. We were talking about the dreadful rations, nothing more.
Rations my arse. You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you.