hired hand, of Kuttenberg
“I wait by the Lower Gate to grease wheels and patch sacks. It saves my back and pays my penny.”
Things Konrad the Scar had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after Saint George, at Vespers
That whoreson Matthew the Ox still has my clay pot of wheel grease. I lent it so he could service wagons, and he just walks away when I ask for it at the town hall. It costs good pennies to replace, and I cannot work without it.
Nota scribaeDictated in the street. The man had his arms crossed the entire time.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Hans Schmidt took my padded jack for the muster and now I hear he pawned it. I paid good silver for that kit. The bailiff will check the muster again soon, and I want it back, or I will take it out of his hide.
I had no coin for bread. I will get it back before the bailiff comes, I swear it.
God protect us from the bailiff. You should never lend anything to a fool.
the fourth Wednesday of Lent, at Terce
Chenyek Wood will not leave me be in the market. He wants me to carry a message to a village two days' walk away, and for no coin. I am not walking the roads for free just because he asks.
It is only a small favor for a neighbor. My kin need to know we are alive.
Nota scribaeHe spoke softly, keeping an eye on the soldiers by the gate.
the Feast of Saint Gregory, at Prime
There are too many soldiers at the gate these days. They look through our sacks for stolen coin and treat us all like thieves. A man just wants to grease his wagons in peace without a spear shoved in his face.
I would show them my own iron if they tried that with me.
You are a boy who does not know his limits. Keep your mouth shut.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Sext
Paid my penny to Philip's wife for the shed. The wind is bitter, but at least the roof holds out the snow. Karl is starving himself again to save his groschen. I pity the man, but I will keep to my own bowl.
My mother Agnes needs the coin more than my belly needs the pottage.
Nota scribaeHe wiped grease from his hands onto his breeches before speaking.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is a heavy pot, Konrad. I will bring it when my arms are rested.
By Saint Wenceslas, you are just too lazy to carry it across town.