hauler of timber and stone, of Kuttenberg
“I carry stone all day and wait for the Cuman swords all night. I am no soldier.”
Things Zdenyek Field had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
If any stranger hears this, I beg you, fetch me a jug of the vintner's best wine. The clerk will strike my name from the levy for it! I cannot go myself, the vintner will have me beaten for my debt. I will pay what I can, just hurry!
Nota scribaeHe spoke so fast the spit flew. I wiped the page twice.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Albrecht Baumann is weeping again over eleven groschen of pitch ruined by a neighbour. What does pitch matter when the bailiff is sending us to feed the Hungarian arrows? The grave takes us all, Albrecht, and you cry over a barrel!
Pitch costs coin, Zdenyek. Your bellyaching will not pay for my bread.
the Monday before Palm Sunday, at None
Roger had good silver from Bartholomew Mason to buy padded armour. A stout gambeson against Cuman steel! And what did he do? Drank it all away. Makes me sick to my stomach to see a man throw his life in the privy like that.
I gave him that silver in good faith. More fool me for trusting a thirsty man.
Nota scribaeDictated by the pillory, between heavy loads of stone.
the feast of St Gregory, at Terce
Rain again. It chills the bone when you carry wet timber for the Germans all morning. But at least I do not sleep in Christopher's tenement like some poor souls I know. I hear the roof there is entirely gone. Let the miser rot.
Aye, Christopher takes the rent but leaves the rain. A curse on his house.
the morning after Candlemas, at Prime
Stood by the pillory till my toes were numb, but the overseer pointed at the German workers instead. Had to beg a shift loading stone just to buy yesterday's bread. And every shadow looks like a man with a muster roll.
They always pick the Germans first. Bloody hell.
Praise be you found work at all. My belly is entirely empty.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of sour wine and fear.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Calm down, man. We all march if they call us. Better to have a drink while you can.
You pawned good armour for ale, Roger! You are a fool who wants to die in the mud!