hired hand, of Kuttenberg
“I haul timber for whoever has a few pennies. I keep my head down and do the lifting.”
Things Hans the Horse had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Vespers
I was just kicking the dirt by the market cross today, looking for a dropped penny. Nothing else. Anyone who says I was looking for a carved button is a liar. Christ almighty, leave a man to stare at his own boots.
Nota scribaeDictated at the alehouse. He stared at his boots the entire time and kept picking at his tunic.
the second day of Easter week, at None
David Baker needed a great pile of wood for his ovens. I carried two loads at once while the other hired hands struggled with one. I might sleep in the straw, but my back is stronger than any mule in this town.
Ay, the wood was hauled fast enough. Here's hoping you don't break your own spine doing it.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at Prime
Saw a band of those Hungarian soldiers on the road near the lower town. I crossed straight into the muck to stay out of their sight. Better to have dirty boots than a cracked skull. I have enough bad luck as it is.
You did right. They took a good loaf from me yesterday without paying a single groschen.
the Wednesday after St Gregory, at Compline
Sitting in my quiet corner at the Platnerska. Francis the Hare asked to borrow my eating knife. I told him I'd dropped it in the woods. I see him take tools and never return them. I don't need him taking what little I have.
Christ almighty, Hans, I only wanted to cut my bread. You treat me like a common thief.
Then use your teeth, Francis.
Nota scribaeThe speaker mumbled so low I had to ask him to repeat his words twice.
the eve of Candlemas, at Terce
Lost something small by the market today. It's not worth anything to a merchant, just a wooden button from my mother Dorothy's dress. It's all I had of her. I feel cursed without it, like every heavy sack today is the Lord punishing me.
I'll keep my eyes to the ground when I walk that way, Hans. It's an ill thing to lose a mother's token.
Nota scribaeHe picked nervously at the frayed threads on his tunic while he spoke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I know how it feels to lose something small. I'm still looking for my brass ring.