tally clerk at the weigh-house, of Kuttenberg
“I freeze my hands tallying carts while my brothers sit in warm shops, and bad luck follows me like a shadow.”
Things Baldwin Fair had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Saint Jude preserve me, my nose has not stopped running since Easter. Sat at the weigh-house all day while carters threw muck at my boots. God rest old Wilhelm, he would have caned them. Now it is just a den of wolves.
Nota scribaeHe wiped his nose on his sleeve three times while speaking.
The second day of Easter week, at None
I call on the Lord to witness that Humphrey Miller is a thief in borrower's clothes. He still holds my precious brass ink pot. If the widow Ottilie had fixed her damned roof, the ledger would not be wet. Why must I suffer for her sins?
Pay me for the ruined pages and you can have your brass toy back. An oilcloth costs two pennies, you fool.
I will not pay for the sky falling on my table, Humphrey!
The Thursday before Palm Sunday, at Sext
Half the grain wagons are taken by the Hungarians before they even reach the lower square, and the carters curse me for the tolls anyway. My hands are so numb I cannot grip the quill. My brother Hynek makes tables by a warm fire while I freeze for the council.
If you had the hands for an adze, father would have taught you. Stop weeping and blow on your fingers.
Nota scribaeDictated shivering, with fingers quite blue.
The Friday after Ash Wednesday, at Prime
The spring rains came hard in the night, and widow Ottilie's rotting thatch gave way entirely. Water poured onto my table and ruined three pages of market records. Saint Jude, why me? The widow just takes my rent and leaves me to drown.
My records! I entrusted them to you, Baldwin. I am coming for collateral until you make it right.
If you paid more than a beggar's coin for the room, I could afford a roofer. Buy a bucket.
The morrow of Candlemas, at Terce
Sat watching Udo Lang chew on stale bread again today to save his groschen. I do not know what sin he is punishing himself for, but it makes my own stomach turn just hearing him crunch it. I would buy a hot pottage if my coin stretched.
My bread is my own business. Mind your tally marks before you lose your place.
Nota scribaeHe asked me for a penny after this. I gave him nothing.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Stop whining, Baldwin. Wilhelm is gone to his reward. Keep your head down and eat your bread.
You younger men have no sense of dignity at the bench. A clerk should command respect.