hauler of wool and cloth, of Kuttenberg
“I am a respectable Kuttenberg townsman, though I spend my days hauling weavers' loads like a mule.”
Things Ralph Thrush had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Friday before Whitsun, at Vespers
If a man rescues a fine bone comb from the mud before a horse crushes it, it is only just he receives a reward. Konrad Wagner thinks he can have it back for nothing. Let him bring a groschen tonight in the dim light of the yard, and he shall have it whole.
Nota scribaeHe stared at his boots the entire time he spoke. He smelled strongly of pine pitch.
the feast of St Pancras, at Prime
Young Richard Wood pawned Lawrence Mailer's good war gear to Jarda the broker to pay his own debts. A man's tools and arms are sacred. I may drag my boots hauling wool like a beast, but I would never steal a neighbor's livelihood. It is a terrible sin.
Keep your nose in your own wool, old man. I will pay Jarda back by harvest.
He had better, or I will break his jaw. The broker asks terrible rates.
the third day of Easter week, at None
My daughters Dorothy and Sarah are weeping again because I will not let them marry. They think I am cruel. They do not understand that a proper Kuttenberg townsman must see his blood wed to men with their own leases, not penniless fools. They must stay and spin yarn for the house.
You are cruel, Father. The boy is honest and you know it.
My hands are bleeding from the spindle, and for what?
Quiet, girls. Your father knows best, God help us.
Nota scribaeHe sighed very heavily after this.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Sext
Heinz Wolf weeps into his ale every evening for his late Katherine. I pity him, truly, but the dead are with God, and the living must pay for the roof over their heads. I have no time to mourn when there are heavy bolts of cloth to drag across the cobblestones.
She was a saint, Ralph. The yard is empty without her.
Candlemas, at Compline
The landlord's servant boy came down today with a slate. Our rent for the upper rooms is raised to an ungodly sum, and we are told to keep silent or face the Kolin gate. I am a respected man of this town, but I will be ruined if I cannot find the coin.
Hugh is a leech. He bleeds us all dry while he hides in his rooms.
Nota scribaeHe dictated this in a whisper, constantly checking over his shoulder for a boy with a slate.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I know my comb, Ralph. Give it here before I take it out of your hide.
It is a matter of Christian charity, Konrad. The finder must be paid.