roofer at Saint Barbara's, of Kuttenberg
“I am a veteran roofer and I mind my own business. If a bastard crosses me, he will bloody well know about it.”
Things Osbert Tanner had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
My joints ache like rot today. The wind up on Saint Barbara's cuts right through a man. Saw some of the King's soldiers marching below, looking like ants. Let them freeze in the mud, long as they don't bother honest roofers.
the Thursday after Easter, at Sext
Master Francis was prowling the scaffolds today like a hungry wolf. I had to keep my hands over my lead-shears so he wouldn't see the maker's mark. The bastard would sack me if he knew they were not mine.
If you are so worried, Osbert, you could just give them back to me. It has been months.
You will get them when my affairs are sorted, Maurice, so hold your peace.
Nota scribaeDictated in a whisper at the tavern.
the Feast of the Annunciation, at Compline
I have twenty groschen for any stranger with heavy fists who wants to earn it. There is a young bastard in this town who needs knocking into the dirt until he learns respect for his elders and pays what he owes.
Twenty groschen is a lot of coin for a bitter old man. Keep it for your thin ale.
Please Osbert, do not start a brawl. The bailiff's men are already on edge.
Nota scribaeHe jabbed his finger at my chest so hard I nearly spilt the ink.
the day after Saint Matthias, at Prime
Wenceslas Green is a whoreson and a liar. I lent him my best wood-adze yesterday and he snapped the haft in two. Laughed in my face and blamed woodworm! It was sound wood. The drunken brute owes me coin.
It was rotten, you soft old fool! Broke on the very first swing. I am not paying a groschen for that firewood.
It was solid ash, you clumsy bastard! I will have my compensation!
Candlemas, at Vespers
The long winter kept us off the roofs and ate all my coin. Swallowed my pride today and borrowed a fine pair of lead-shears from Maurice to get back to work. Christ almighty, I hate needing a man's charity.
Think nothing of it, Osbert. We all need a hand when the frost is hard.
Aye, the frost was a bastard this year. Hard on the bones and the purse.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of thin ale and bitterness.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The soldiers are doing their duty, Osbert. My brother Jan is with them, God keep him.
God keep him away from my ale, Edmund. Focus on your own work.