copper craftsman, of Kuttenberg
“I am an honest craftsman going through a brief misfortune concerning my tools. Once it is sorted, I will be back at my bench.”
Things Roger Thatcher had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Sext
If Albrecht says one more word about the moth holes in my gambeson I will break his nose. It is fine padded armour, bought with good silver, and a man must be ready if the King's brother comes to the gates. I would like to see him find better.
Nota scribaeHe wiped his mouth continuously while speaking. The garment in question smelled strongly of stale ale.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Is there no Christian charity left in Kuttenberg? I asked Nickel again to carry a word to my sister Amice in Tachov, just to tell her I draw breath, and he flatly refused. The roads are not that dangerous for a man who knows them. God will judge him.
I have no business in Tachov, and I am not risking my neck for a drunken fool's errands.
We all have troubles, Roger. Christopher's broken roof is leaking on my head right now.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at Vespers
Sat with Martin Plümel at the tavern. He lost three groschen at dice in the time it took me to finish a single cup of ale. Say what you will about my thirst, but at least I pour my coin down my throat instead of giving it to strangers.
It was two groschen, and the dice were cursed. I will win it back tomorrow.
Do not speak so loud of coin, the bailiff's men are walking about making lists.
Nota scribaeHe dictated this outside the alehouse, having no coin to go inside.
the feast of Saint Thomas Aquinas, at None
Bartholomew Mason took my copper plate right from my stall, calling it a lawful pledge. By Saint Thomas, it is theft! I have his armour perfectly safe, I merely keep it elsewhere to protect it from thieves. How am I to work my trade without my plate?
Show me the armour I paid for, Roger. Until then, the plate stays with me.
I told you, it is safe! You are ruining a man's honest livelihood over a shadow of a doubt.
Nota scribaeHe refused to look me in the eye when he said the armour was safe.
Saint Matthias's day, at Terce
A foul morning. I woke freezing above the oven and now my hands shake too much to hold a hammer. A man cannot work in this state, nor can he think straight with soldiers on the march. I will sit by the Italian Court and hope my fortune turns.
Your hands shake because you drank your weight in ale yesterday, you fool.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I said it looks like the moths had a feast, and it does. You still owe me for that ruined tar.
Good silver indeed. Pity it was mine. I want to see the real kit, Roger.