hauler at the tannery, of Kuttenberg
“I haul stinking hides all day because my own father treats me like a beggar. I'll make my own way and keep what is mine.”
Things Prokop Alder had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
That thief Bohuta is still working the far strip by the creek like he owns it. As soon as I have the fee for the bailiff, I'll see him rot. It's my birthright, not his. Everyone in this town is blind to justice.
Nota scribaeHe spat on the floor after saying his brother's name. I made him wipe it up.
the feast of St John before the Latin Gate, at None
Standa is crying over a lost piece of wood again. A grown man whining about his mother's carving while the rest of us break our backs lifting wet leather. At least old Godfrey would have told him to shut his mouth and work.
My mother Rose carved that saint with her own hands. Have some respect, you whoreson.
Godfrey would have docked his pay, God rest his foul soul.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Fritz is the only man in this cursed yard who understands. My father wants me to marry a rich cow, just like Joerg sent Fritz's maid away to Prague. I will marry who I please, even if I have to starve first.
Aye. I'll go to Prague and find my Milena yet. Fathers are bastards.
You will starve then, you stubborn fool.
Nota scribaeHe spoke loudly so the other men would hear, but none were listening.
the Wednesday before Palm Sunday, at Sext
Tuma Short is shaking like a leaf again over the levy. Cuman troops on the roads and he drinks his wages in terror. What a coward. I have a roof that leaks and an empty belly, but you don't see me trembling.
You wouldn't speak so bold if you had a sword at your neck.
the Friday after St Valentine, at Terce
I bought a good cut of pork with my own groschen, but the salt sellers in the market won't sell to me. Father told them not to. If some stranger doesn't buy me a measure of salt today, the meat will rot.
Come home, Prokop. Your father will forgive you if you just ask.
I don't want his forgiveness, mother. I just want some bloody salt.
Nota scribaeHe counted out three copper pennies on the table and glared at me as if I might steal them.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep hauling hides, little brother. Father gave the strip to me.
My brother is just the same. Don't let him have an inch of it.