hired hand, of Kuttenberg
“I haul slag and ore at the Kuttenberg smelting works. I keep my head down and my belly full, mostly.”
Things Casper the Fox had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St Philip and St James, at Vespers
Stislav was raging again today about his missing shovel. He was tearing the cellar apart looking under pallets. I told him he should ask Denis. Denis took my spare tunic when he marched off with the levy, he could easily have taken a good iron shovel too.
Nota scribaeThe lad shifted from foot to foot the entire time he spoke.
the second week of Easter, at Sext
I saw Stephen the Ox showing off his new padded jack down by the lower gates. A whole month's groschen traded away just to look sharp for the spring muster. A man can't eat a padded jack when the work dries up. I learned that much this winter.
It turns a blade, Casper. Better an empty belly than a Cuman arrow in it.
Aye, and Stephen looks right pretty in it too.
the Thursday after Laetare Sunday, at Compline
Gilbert crossed two loads off my tally today. Said the wagons weren't full enough. I carried what was there! My hands are raw and he sits behind his barred window cheating us of our bread. But I didn't argue. You don't argue with the ledger.
Gilbert's scales are weighted with his own greed. We all know it, lad.
My father Ernest always said you have to heap the slag in the middle so it looks like more. That's how he beat the tally.
the first week of Lent, at Prime
I need my shovel back, Kubyenka. I lent it to you in good faith at Candlemas and you've had it near a month. I can't get shifts at the crushing pits without it, and I won't go hungry again. Just hand it over when we get to the yard.
I told you, lad, it fell in the lower pit. It's under ten feet of black water. You want it, you swim for it.
Sakra, Kubyenka, it cost me a month's work! You have to pay me for it.
Come make me.
Nota scribaeDictated in a whisper so the men at the next table would not hear.
Candlemas, at None
The winter is finally turning. I nearly starved when the work stopped at Christmas. Three days with nothing but snow-water in my belly. I swore I'd never feel that hollow pain again, and I won't. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep earning my keep down at the works.
We all starved, Casper. Stop whining about it like you're the only one.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Denis left before Christmas, you young fool. The shovel was there at Candlemas. If I find the whoreson who took it, I'll break his neck.
Sakra, Stislav, I just thought I'd mention it. Men take things.