tallyman at the weigh-house, of Kuttenberg
“I record the market tolls and keep the carters from cheating the council blind. Half the men on the bench are fools, but I know what matters is a neat ledger.”
Things Humphrey Miller had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Roger came to the bench again asking me to carry a letter to his kin. I tapped my belt and told him I am a Kuttenberg clerk, not a messenger boy. Pay a travelling merchant your groschen and leave me to the tolls.
Nota scribaeHe spent a long time tapping his belt to demonstrate.
the feast of Saint Pancras, at Sext
Drslav is still moaning over the baker's daughter Magdalena being sent away to Czaslau. The boy is pathetic. Meanwhile Sebastian slipped off to the tavern after recording but three carts. If old Wilhelm were still alive to manage this bench, he would have their hides.
You have no heart in you, only ink and dust.
My throat was dry from the dust. At least I do not hoard other men's goods.
the Wednesday after Easter, at None
Udo sits there eating stale bread again. He must like the taste of punishment. But bread prices are dear with these soldiers on the roads, so perhaps he has no choice. I ate my crust and caught a carter trying to short the weight by three pounds.
My bread is my own business, mind your own affairs.
the third week of Lent, at Prime
Baldwin Fair left the ledger I lent him under the dripping thatch in widow Ottilie's miserable house. Three pages of market records, completely ruined. I have taken his brass ink pot and placed it on my desk. It stays there until he admits he is a careless fool.
It was the widow's leaking roof that did it, not me. Give me back my pot.
The roof is fine enough for a tenant who never pays his rent on time.
Nota scribaeHe pointed at the ink pot the whole time he spoke.
Candlemas, at Compline
I borrowed a fine scraping knife from Master Miller today. It is excellent for removing the ruined marks from Baldwin's blunder. The man hardly uses the blade himself, so I will keep it just a little longer. A borrowed tool that does good work is no sin.
You are always keeping things that do not belong to you.
I am holding it for safekeeping.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is but a small scroll, and my mother is ill. You sit there doing naught.
I am weighing the council's grain, you fool.