labourer at the carters' yard, of Kuttenberg
“I am a man of my word and my honour, no matter what my father shouts.”
Things Markvart Dietrich had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
My father Erhard threatens to leave me a beggar in the gutters if I speak to Sibyl again. It is a matter of honour now. A man does not yield when his heart is fixed. Let him keep his cramped house. I will not back down to his shouting.
Nota scribaeDictated in quick bursts. The man shifted his weight from foot to foot the entire time.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
Barely a single wagon came into the yard today. They say the soldiers on the roads have stopped the grain from moving. We stood idle in the dust for hours. A man cannot earn an honest penny when kings make a mess of the world.
This is why you must save your coin when there is work, Markvart. A smart man hoards.
And starve today against the chance of starving tomorrow? Keep your tight purse, Kunz.
the eve of Palm Sunday, at Prime
Lorenz Hartmann is still avoiding the yard over a dispute about a broken fence. What a ridiculous reason to miss a day's wage. I have actual misery pressing down on me at home, and he weeps over some cracked wood. It lacks honour to hide from work.
You know nothing about it, you flour-dusted pup. Mind your own hauling.
Leave the lad alone, Markvart. You have your own father to worry about right now.
the feast of St Gertrude, at None
Oswald caught a runaway wagon with his chest and is stuck in his bed. Now the yard is chaos. I do my lifting and take my pay, but without him handing out the day work it is a scramble. I just want my honest pennies and to go to the alehouse.
Good riddance. He always gave the best indoor tasks to his own nephews anyway.
He always paid on time and did not cheat the tally. I hope he mends before the summer.
Nota scribaeHe asked for the words 'honest pennies' to be underlined. I did not do it.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Compline
I waited by the wash-house until dusk just to see Sibyl. She is worth crossing any man for, dowry or no. Frantishek tells me I am a fool and that her father died of fever, but my mind is made up. A true man defends his choice against all dung-slingers.
Her father was an honest carter, but you have no roof of your own, lad. Listen to reason.
Disgraceful. I will not have that laundress under my roof, Markvart. Hear me well.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Honour does not buy bread, you stubborn fool. You will starve in the cold.
Stand fast, Markvart. I know exactly how you suffer. We must not yield an inch.
I am standing fast, Claus. We are men, not dung.