tallyman at the weigh-house, of Kuttenberg
“I sit at the bench on the lower square and count the grain. It is a miserable trade for miserable men, made worse by liars.”
Things Drslav Hill had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at None
I gave a Czaslau carter my last two pennies to tell me if he had seen a baker's daughter. He took the coin and said he only looks at the road. If I had the silver, I would leave this ink-stained bench tomorrow.
Nota scribaeHe stared at the ink pot for an hour after saying this.
the second day of Easter week, at Sext
Baldwin and Humphrey are bickering again over a ruined parchment and a brass ink pot. I wish old Wilhelm was alive to box their ears. The town takes its toll, the carters cheat, and I am sick of the sight of them all.
It was my ink pot, Drslav, you saw him knock it over!
If I had Wilhelm's seat, there would be order.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at Vespers
I pray every night for a stranger to come to Kuttenberg and beat Sebastian Hoffmann until he eats his own lying teeth. He sits across from me grinning. I am not built for fighting, but I would pay good coin to see him bleed.
A Hungarian guard already did your fighting, eh? Just ask your little baker girl.
Shut your mouth, you whoreson.
Nota scribaeDictated through clenched teeth. His knuckles were white.
the Monday after St Matthias, at Prime
A father should believe his own flesh over a tavern joke. Lambert cares more for what the neighbours say than for my life. Magdalena is gone to Czaslau because he believed a foul lie. I will not sit at his table again.
Do not speak of this to the scribe, boy. The shame is heavy enough.
the eve of Candlemas, at Compline
They have sent her away. My Magdalena. Because Sebastian stood up in the alehouse and swore she was keeping company with the Cuman and Hungarian guards. It is a lie born of pure spite, and it has ruined everything I had hoped for.
Everyone saw her, Drslav. You are just blind.
Nota scribaeHe was drinking heavily and crying.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Come home, brother. Mother is weeping again.
Let her weep. Father made this bed.