day-man in the timber trade, of Kuttenberg
“I am a timber man and a roofer when the work is there. I do my work and try to keep my head down.”
Things Ulrich Wald had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second day of May, at Vespers
By Saint Jude, the ache in my hands is fierce today. Jarda gave the heaviest work to Jacob Smith, and left me sorting the offcuts. Half-rate again. Katherine says I should speak up, but a man does not argue when he has copper in his hand.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed his thumb over his knuckles the whole time he spoke.
the Tuesday after Saint George, at Compline
I walked the long way home again tonight. I heard them saying bread is dearer yet, and there are more soldiers on the road from Prague. I just want to do my work. I gave a groschen to the church box today. May God accept it.
You have groschen to spare for the box, Ulrich? I haven't seen a full day's wage in a week.
the third day of Easter week, at None
I still have not found the little wooden saint I kept in my pouch. I have searched the dirt by the market cross twice over. It is gone. I know why God took it from me. A punishment for what happened on Saint Matthias's day.
A wooden saint won't fix a broken leg, Ulrich.
I know it, Geoffrey. I know it.
Nota scribaeHe kept touching an empty pouch at his belt.
the eve of Palm Sunday, at Terce
If any good Christian is walking by Vlasta's cellar today, could you look in on Dietrich? Just to see if he is still drawing breath. Do not tell him I sent you. I cannot go myself. He would brain me with his crutch.
He is drinking himself into the grave, Ulrich. And I'm not running a charity hospital down here.
You tied the knot, you whoreson. Stay away from me.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke very slowly, as if frightened of his own words.
the Monday after Candlemas, at Sext
We were patching the roof near the Italian Court. The morning frost had barely thawed. I tied the main rope myself, as I always do. But it slipped. I heard the crack when Dietrich hit the cobblestones. By Saint Jude, I can still hear it.
It was a bad day. The frost makes the ropes stiff.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You should speak up. A half-rate does not fill the pot, Ulrich.
The heavy work needs strong backs, old man. Jarda knows what he's doing.