digger at the wall works, of Kuttenberg
“I dig dirt at the town wall for Master Vitek. I pay my way and keep my word.”
Things Richard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St Philip and St James, at Sext
Master Vitek pointed his finger today, so I swung a pickaxe all morning. My lower back aches like a rotting tooth. I do my work, I pay what I owe, and I still might end up in the pillory because of one lying arse.
Nota scribaeDictated at the wall works. He wiped dirt from his face and went straight back to digging.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Terce
Michael the pawnbroker has fled the town. Took his ledgers and my kettle hat with him. Now I have no hat, no coin, and the bailiff will put me in the pillory at the muster. I hope Michael rots in hell.
the first Wednesday of Lent, at None
Twenty groschen. That whoreson Heinz pawned my iron hat to Michael for twenty groschen and lost it all at dice. Wanted to redeem his gambeson. If I get my hands on his throat, he won't need a gambeson.
I know the feeling. Karl pawned my iron skullcap too. Bloody thieves, the lot of them.
Don't kill him, Richard, the bailiff will fine you for that too.
Nota scribaeThe man ground his teeth so loudly I could barely hear the words.
the Monday after St Valentine, at Compline
Heinz came shivering to the mill tonight. Swore on his mother's grave he was freezing on night watch and begged for my new kettle hat. I gave it him for the night. I am a fool.
Candlemas, at Vespers
The bailiff says we need war kit for the levy or it's the pillory. I hauled rocks all winter and gave thirty-two groschen for a solid iron kettle hat from a merchant today. It is mine.
Master Vitek doesn't need a hat, sitting safe in the Italian Court while we freeze.
That's a fine piece of iron, Richard. Good against the wind.
Nota scribaeDictated near the market. The man smelled heavily of grain.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My sister Sarah went to Prague and I never hear from her. Life is hard for everyone, Richard.
Just drink your weak beer and go to sleep on the straw, lad.