digger at the town works, of Kuttenberg
“I am the fastest digger in Kuttenberg, provided I have my own tools and not rented rubbish.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second Tuesday in May, at None
If Andreas does not stop whining about his father Kvyetoslav and his bad hip, I will throw him out of the cellar myself. Walk back to Prague if you miss him so much, boy. I need my sleep to dig.
Nota scribaeHe shouted the last part so loudly a dog barked in the street.
the eve of St Philip and St James, at Vespers
Frantishek is a thief dressed as a labourer. I took his trenching spade on Saint Mark's day while he drank his wages. I have it right here. He will not get it back until he grovels and returns my mallet.
You stole my spade from my bedroll! Give it back by Sunday or I will call the bailiff.
Fetch my iron-banded mallet first, you whoreson. I hold the spade as a lawful pledge.
Nota scribaeHe slammed a muddy spade onto my table to prove he had it.
the third day of Easter week, at Compline
Bread has gone up two pennies a loaf since Sunday. I am eating watery cabbage soup again. These new German foremen bleed us dry charging half a day's wage just to rent a rusted shovel. I miss Lambert.
Lambert was a hard master, but he never robbed us on tool rent. Praise be to his memory.
He is in Prague, not dead, you fool. And you are the one robbing me.
the first Friday in March, at Prime
Adleta came for the cellar rent and I barely had the coin. Paying daily rent for a blunt mallet to do my own trade is eating every groschen I make. Menhard sleeps on twenty-two groschen and starves himself. Idiot.
Keep your voice down, sakra. Do you want everyone to know what I have saved?
Pay what you owe on Saturday, Thomas, or you sleep in the mud with the pigs.
Nota scribaeHe coughed violently before dictating this.
Candlemas, at Terce
I lent my best iron-banded mallet to Frantishek so he could finish his trench. He said he would bring it back tonight. A man's only as good as his tools, and that mallet cost me a month of sweat.
Never lend your tools, lad. My Martha always said a borrowed tool comes back broken or not at all.
I will bring it tomorrow, Thomas. The shaft is loose and I meant to fix it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I only said he owes the miller money. You have no heart, Thomas.
Let the lad be, Thomas. He is young and far from home.