digger at the wall works, of Kuttenberg
“I haul dirt for the king builders and outwork every soft boy in this wretched town.”
Things Joerg had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
I see Jezhek and John crying in their ale because Michael the pawnbroker vanished with their militia kit. Mein Gott what fools. If a man drinks his helm away he deserves the pillory when the muster comes.
Nota scribaeDictated at the tavern. He spat on the floor after speaking.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
The damp in the mill loft is getting into my bones. Woke up today and my back screamed like a stuck pig. But I still dragged myself to the Court and moved twice the earth these soft boys did.
Come stand by the ovens tomorrow morning Joerg. The heat will do your old joints some good.
the Monday after St Gertrude, at Sext
That boy Mathes is whining again about his ash wood pitchfork. He lent it to me ay but the little thief still owes me ten groschen from our wages at Epiphany. When he pays what he owes he gets his iron tines back.
You old liar I never shorted you a single penny. Vitek demands we bring tools and you stole mine.
Pay the ten groschen boy or dig with your bare hands.
Nota scribaeThe man pointed his entire hand at me while speaking and smelled strongly of old flour.
the Friday before St Gregory, at None
Roger is moaning about his sister Sarah again. The girl went to Prague ten years ago. She is probably dead of the pox or married to a merchant who does not care about dirt haulers. I told him to shut his mouth.
She is my only blood Joerg. Have you no heart in that crusty chest of yours.
the day after Candlemas, at Compline
Master Vitek is a tyrant. He turns men away if they have no tools. My old shovel cracked on a stone today. I borrowed Mathes fine new pitchfork just for the afternoon shift. I reckon I will keep it a few days more.
Do not let the bailiff catch you keeping another man livelihood Joerg.
Nota scribaeHe spoke this very quietly looking over his shoulder toward the door.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You miserable old bastard. We will be flogged and you sit there grinning.
Should have kept your coin in your pouch boy.