trench digger of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I carry the heaviest loads of dirt and stone so I do not die on a Cuman spear.”
Things Menhard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Ascension, at Compline
Eighteen groschen short. That is all that stands between me and the levy. The watch is looking at us labourers like meat for the slaughter, and I am not marching against the Hungarians. I carried clay today until my lungs rattled just for an extra penny.
Nota scribaeThe man kept patting his right hip as he dictated, his eyes darting around the cellar as if thieves were in the very walls.
the eve of St Philip and St James, at Sext
Frantishek is crying about his best trenching spade again. Thomas took it on Saint Mark's day, and bloody right he did! You do not borrow a man's iron-banded mallet at Candlemas and just keep it. A tool is a man's livelihood, and treating it like a joke is a sin.
It was just a mallet! He did not need to walk off with my shovel right when the ground is softening.
It is a lawful pledge, Frantishek. Hand over my mallet and you will get your spade back, not a day sooner.
the second day of Easter week, at None
The German foremen paid an extra penny for the heaviest loads today, and I took every one. Half the old bastards here were groaning, but I can lift more than men twice my size. Let them laugh when I eat my cold cabbage soup. I keep my coin.
You will cough up your lungs and die in that cellar before you ever spend a single penny of it, lad.
Nota scribaeHe boasts of his strength, but his knees shook so violently I thought he might collapse before the end of the sentence.
the Thursday after St Gregory, at Vespers
If William weeps over that little wooden token from his dead Martha one more time, I will throw it in the river. She died of a fever four winters ago! The dead are dead. It is the living that have to worry about looking after their own necks.
You have a lump of stone for a heart, Menhard. She kept me sober, and she was ten times the Christian you are.
Candlemas, at Prime
Freezing my arse off by the Sedletz gate waiting for the works to open, and Andreas will not shut up about his father Kvyetoslav's bad hip. What do I care about a man three days' ride away? I have rent to pay the widow Adleta by Saturday.
He owes the miller a great deal of money, Menhard, and the hip means he cannot work to pay it off!
Nota scribaeDictated at the town gate in the freezing mud.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You would have more coin if you ran errands for townsmen like Roger Thatcher, rather than breaking your back.
And what do they pay you for it, Nickel? A smile and a pat on the head? I work for silver.