roofer at Saint Barbara's, of Kuttenberg
“I put good timber over Kuttenberg, friend, and thank the Lord for a loud house and fair wages. A quiet man is a dead man.”
Things Wolfgang Albrecht had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
My Grete is weeping again, but I will not hear of it. No daughter of mine is going to court a boy whose father looks down his nose at decent people. We Albrechts earn our keep and we do not match with arrogant snobs.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly at his table. He slapped his thigh so hard he spilled his ale.
the third day of Easter week, at Compline
Master Francis kept us on the upper scaffolds until the bells rang. My back is breaking, but I handed every groschen to Sibyl. Work is work, friend, and a man has to feed five mouths before Francis decides to thin the crew.
He pays what he promises, Wolfgang. Better a tired back than an empty purse.
He would charge us for the wind up there if he could measure it.
the second Wednesday of Lent, at None
Just keep your hammer tied to your belt, friends. Wenceslas Green is a careless lad and broke Osbert's best adze today, and now Osbert is seething like a pot on the boil. I stay out of it. I need my wages too much for brawling.
It was a fine blade, bloody hell. He shamed me at the alehouse, too.
Christ almighty, it was an accident. Have some pity, I am worried sick about my sister Lidka.
Nota scribaeThe man shouted this down from the scaffolding.
the Monday after Saint Matthias, at Terce
Edmund Black is looking at the clouds again, fretting over his brother Jan marching off with the levied men. I told the lad to watch the shingles before he steps into thin air. Soldiers die, but roofs still need fixing.
Jan is out there on the roads doing his duty. You only care about your own house, Wolfgang.
Candlemas, at Sext
Caught Philip Ford's boy Matthew sniffing around my Grete. I put a stop to it instantly, friend! I will not have my family insulted by a tight-fisted miser who thinks he is better than us just because he hoards his coin.
You flatter yourself, Albrecht. He was merely walking past.
Keep him on your side of the street, Philip!
Nota scribaeThe dictating was delayed because he would not stop waving his hands.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You did the right thing, husband. We have our pride.
My Matthew is well rid of the whole boisterous lot of you.