watchman at the Kolin gate, of Kuttenberg
“I stand the watch at the Kolin gate, keeping the wretches out. A man works his shift and asks for naught but what he is owed.”
Things Richard Wood had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross, at Compline
To everyone asking, yes, Lawrence lent me his war gear freely so I could try it on. I reckon I will give it back well before the muster. God's wounds, let a man borrow a breastplate in peace without starting a bloody inquisition.
the eve of St George, at None
Konrad Wagner sat by the yard fire for three nights without paying a single penny for the wood. So I took his fine goose quills as a fair pledge. I reckon that is justice. He will not get them back until he pays his share.
You whoreson, those cost me twenty groschen! Wood is not worth a fraction of that. Give them back before I break your jaw!
Admit the debt first! God's wounds, you are tighter than a nun's arse.
Nota scribaeThe man was speaking very loudly and refused to uncross his arms.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Sext
Drunkard Vitek keeps badgering me to carry some message out to the villages for his kin. God's wounds, does he think I am mad? The roads are crawling with Hungarians and Cumans. I reckon I am staying right behind these walls where a man can keep his head.
It is just to the village, lad! My sister has not heard from me since Christmas. You have got the youth and the legs for it.
I have the legs to stand my watch, old man, not to get run through by a mercenary's arrow.
the first week of Lent, at Terce
Freezing my arse off at the Kolin gate today. Sigismund's war keeps spitting out refugees and I am the one who has to tell them to turn around. They look at me like I am the devil, but I reckon Kuttenberg has enough starving mouths as it is.
You are young and strong, lad. The cold should not bother you half as much as it does my broken old bones.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Hugh's boy brought me a slate today. God's wounds, does the man think I shit groschen? I pull my weight at the gate, but the rent for this miserable shed is bleeding me dry. I reckon I will have to find coin fast or sleep in the mud.
Nota scribaeDictated while pacing back and forth in the mud of the yard.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It has been weeks, Richard. The muster is coming and I need that kit. Bring it to the yard tomorrow.
I told you, it is safe. I just need to polish it. Aye, I reckon it needs a good polish.