market sweeper and messenger, of Kuttenberg
“I do what light work I can manage, though my back is ruined. A man must scrape by to provide for his wife, and I ask only for a quiet life away from the wars.”
Things Menhard Koch had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
I saw Francis Vejmola staring at me outside the church. He looks at me like a butcher looks at a calf. I only told the clerk Wenceslas the truth, that Francis has a strong brother-in-law to watch his shop. If they march me off to the Hungarians, who will feed my Margaret?
Nota scribaeDictated in a whisper behind the tavern. The man kept looking over his shoulder.
the Tuesday after Quasimodo Sunday, at None
Bohuta broke the older miller's plane, and now they are at each other's throats. Fools. With Cumans on the roads and a levy coming, they squabble over a piece of wood. The older miller loves his tools more than a whole skin. I stay out of it.
It was an accident, Menhard, and none of your business anyway.
the Wednesday of Holy Week, at Prime
The roof leaked all night on my side of the bed. My back is in absolute agony today. A man asked me to carry a sack of oats to the mint, but I had to refuse. Margaret would weep if I broke myself in two for a groschen.
You have never lifted a sack in your life. Stop whining.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Terce
Young Matthew Ford is mooning over that refugee girl, Clemence, at the monastery. And Ulrich Porter wants to marry a baker's widow sitting in the alderman's cellar. Children! Men are preparing to face a Hungarian sword, and they fret over penniless girls.
Keep Clemence's name out of your lying mouth, Menhard.
Lida is a good woman, and you are a coward.
Nota scribaeThe man rubbed his chin raw while speaking this.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Compline
I sat with the bailiff's clerk, Wenceslas, and bought him three pints. We talked of the town lists. It is only right to help the bailiff understand who is fit to hold a spear and who is not. I am a sick man, and Francis has a sturdy shop.
I did not see this when you wrote it, you whoreson. But I see it now.
It was a misunderstanding, Francis! I only meant to praise your family's strength!
Nota scribaeHe spoke quietly. I noted down the exact sum spent on ale, though he asked me not to.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You miserable little worm. I know you bought that clerk ale to put my name down instead of yours. I will break your ruined back.
Come home, Menhard, you are drinking away the penny you made sweeping.