market porter and butcher's son, of Kuttenberg
“I haul cloth in the lesser market to save up my pennies. I have my own life to make, far from my father's bloody aprons.”
Things John Swift had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
I watched William chopping meat today, dull as a stump. He will die with a cleaver in his hand, but I will not. I have three groschen saved for the Caslav road, and I will be gone as soon as I have enough.
Nota scribaeHe kicked the dirt angrily while saying this, crossing his arms tight against his chest.
the Monday after Saint George, at None
Kvyetoslav Stone is a liar and a rat. I took his fine goose quills to sneak one last letter to Avice, and he walked straight to my father to tell him. I am keeping the feathers, old man. Come look me in the eye if you want them.
Her family is not worth the trouble, lad. I did you a kindness.
You did a butcher's bidding because you are a coward. The quills stay in my pouch.
the third day of Easter week, at Terce
Dietrich Metzger jumped like a frightened hare when the king's men walked through the lesser market today. What a coward. A real man fights for true love, not just to save his own skin from the bailiff's muster.
It is easy to be brave when your only war is against your father's pork carcasses, John.
the second Tuesday of Lent, at Prime
Hauling heavy sacks for Kubyenka Fuller in this cursed mud. My back aches, but it pays copper. Better to break my back in the dirt here than suffer my father's shouting at the butchery.
Less complaining and more hauling, boy. Julian will want the stall rents come November.
At least you do not owe Bohuta. The mud is free.
Nota scribaeDictated at the edge of the market. The boy scowled at every passerby.
Candlemas, at Vespers
It was cold behind the cooper's shed today, but Avice keeps my heart warm. My father says her family is too poor. What does an old butcher know of love? I will marry her anyway, let him boil in his own stew.
You are a fool, John. Father will catch you and beat you black and blue.
Nota scribaeThe lad refused to lower his voice when speaking of his father.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You will die a beggar if you do not get back to the scraping block, you lazy whoreson.