hired hand at the tannery, of Kuttenberg
“I haul stinking hides for pennies so I can buy boots for the road to Prague. My father thinks he is rid of her, but he is wrong.”
Things Fritz Binder had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second Tuesday in May, at Vespers
The stench of the tanning pits is baked into my skin. I scrubbed with lye but Clara still scowled when I sat at the table. Let her scowl. I have five more groschen saved. Every day is a step closer to Prague and Milena.
Nota scribaeThe lad stank so fiercely of the pits that I made him stand by the open window.
the eve of St George, at None
Peter Gerber nearly dropped a fat vat of liquor today when his bad hand gave out. I caught the other side before the foreman saw. If he loses this wage he will starve. Some people have real troubles in this world.
I owe you an ale for that, lad. My grip just failed me.
the Monday after Easter, at Terce
Tuma Short and Julian Little are whining about that pewter jug again. A man's true love is snatched away to Prague by his own father, and these old fools are shouting in the yard over twenty groschen and a piece of tin. Give it back to him, Tuma, for Christ's sake.
It is a matter of principle, you whelp. He owes me the slate.
It is my jug! And you would do well to respect your elders, Fritz.
the first week of Lent, at Prime
I need sturdy boots. The ones I have are worn through the sole, and the road to Prague is long. Prokop and I sat eating dry crusts today, cursing our fathers. His locked up the family grain, mine locked away my heart.
Would you cease whining about this girl? When Godfrey was foreman, we had no time for sighing over maids.
You know nothing of love, Standa. Go cry over your lost wooden saint.
Nota scribaeDictated at the edge of the yard. He sighed after every word.
Candlemas, at Vespers
My father Joerg has done a wicked thing. He found out about me and Milena, and because she has no dowry, he arranged for her to be sent to a household in Prague. I swear by all the saints I will walk there and rescue her from whatever servitude she is in.
I saved you from making a beggar's match. You will thank me when you have a measure of sense.
Listen to your father, Fritz. The girl had nothing to her name.
Nota scribaeThe father requested this entry be scrubbed out, but the decree says what is spoken must be written.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You will sleep in the yard if you bring that filth into my house again, boy.
They want to break us, Fritz. Stay strong.