woodworker at the yard, of Kuttenberg
“I keep my head down, swing my adze, and save my groschen. The mud here is temporary.”
Things Hannes Hartung had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Compline
Kunz Weber has been crying to anyone who will listen about a missing axe. Mein Gott, if a man does not show up for a roofing job and leaves his mate to do the work of two, he forfeits his tools. He can have it back when he admits he is a lazy whoreson.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke in a low mutter, checking his purse twice as he dictated.
the feast of the Ascension, at Prime
Barbara stood all day in the market cold selling ribbons, and I worked until my hands bled at the yard. We counted the tin tonight. It is slow, but we are closer to the charter. Let the other fools drink their wages; we will have our own roof.
You make us all look bad to Master Maurice, you miserable miser. There is more to life than coin.
the feast of Saint Mark, at Vespers
Christ almighty, my back is broken. Kunz and I had a private roofing job today, good coin away from the yard. The lazy bastard never showed. I carried the beams and laid the shingles myself. I will have my due for this loss of time, one way or another.
Brother, you push yourself too hard. The mint is hiring sweepers if the timber yard is too much.
I said I do not need your loans or your pity, Hermann. I earn my own way.
Nota scribaeHe was covered in sawdust and scowled the entire time he spoke.
the second Tuesday of Lent, at None
Poor Hedvika the ale-wife died of the fever. God rest her soul, up in heaven there are no slates. The whole yard is panicking because her nephew tossed them out and called their debts. I felt nothing but contempt. I never borrowed a single penny for ale.
You smug bastard. Some of us have thirsty work and empty purses.
Candlemas, at Terce
Another freezing morning standing in the mud outside the counting-house, waiting for Master Maurice to point his finger. William Brown kept whining about his brother Matthew's spring barley, as if I care. Maurice picked me first, as he should. I do not lean on my adze.
Matthew's fields are important! And you did not have to shove past me when the window opened.
Keep your head down, William. The less said to him, the better.
Nota scribaeThe dictator requested I write this down quickly so he could return to sawing.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Give it back, Hannes! It is my livelihood! My brother Johannes kept me talking, I meant no harm!
You cost me a day's wages, Kunz. The heavy iron stays hidden with me.