ditch-digger at the works, of Kuttenberg
“I used to stand at the church steps at first light, but now I just need a dark corner. My head splits if I look at the sun too long.”
Things Robert had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
I am perfectly fine. I merely slipped on a loose stone in the mud the other night. The fever is just from the damp in Doubravka's cellar. If Nicholas comes round asking again, tell him to mind his own business and let me sleep.
Nota scribaeHe was shivering so badly I could barely write this down. The smell of the wound was foul.
the Tuesday after Quasimodo Sunday, at None
William Baker took my padded mail coif for safekeeping, and now I hear he pawned it for his own debts. I need that coif back before the town captain calls the muster. A man without armour goes to the front rank, and I am not dying for William's empty purse.
I only borrowed against it, Robert. You will have it back when my luck turns at the dice.
You had best squeeze him for it now. The Hungarian riders are getting closer every week.
the second day of Easter week, at Sext
Otto struck me from the ledger, they say. Missing three shifts means you are out. Well, let him dig his own ditches at the mint. I have enough copper for ale, and that keeps me warmer than sweating in the mud for the King's silver.
Otto will take you back if you beg him, lad. Do not throw your bread away.
More work for the rest of us. Stay in the tavern, lad.
Nota scribaeDictated outside the tavern. He dropped his last two pennies in the dirt and could not find them.
the feast of Saint Benedict, at Terce
The cellar is too quiet. Simon used to talk half the night about buying a little patch of land. I went to the church steps this morning but I could not stand there without him. I bought a jug instead. Simon always said I had a hollow leg for ale.
Your brother was a good man. We all miss him at the works.
I still need the rent on Sunday, boy, whether he is in the ground or not.
Ash Wednesday, at Prime
My brother Simon took a fever and died before the priest even arrived. We shared the same straw and ate the same bread, so why did the sickness take him and leave me? I do not know what I am supposed to do now.
God takes the best of us first. You must stay strong for his sake, Robert.
If you need a safe place for his things, bring them to me. The widow might steal them.
Nota scribaeThe young man wept.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You are going to die in that straw, lad. Let me bring the barber.
I told you to leave me be. I handle my ale and my footing just fine.