merchant of linens and gloves, of Kuttenberg
“I am a merchant of considerable standing here in Kuttenberg, dealing in fine wares for honest households.”
Things Franz Schneider had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Corpus Christi, at Vespers
My daughter Anna and my boy Eberhard will put me in an early grave. They speak of marrying into families drowned in debt! It would shatter our good name. Zlata, God rest her, would have whipped the nonsense out of them both.
Nota scribaeDictated at his stall. The linen he pointed to was thin as a cobweb.
the Monday after Ascension, at Terce
If some kind soul has a moment, look in on Nicholas Fair. They say a new levy is called, and the poor fool is hiding in Vlasta's damp cellar drinking himself to death. I am too busy managing my gold to go myself.
The cellar is quiet, Franz. Better Vlasta's ale than an arrow in my other shoulder.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Maurice the foreman is a tyrant at the weigh-house, but Leonard Albrecht brought his wrath on himself. Now Bohuta has lost a week's wages because of Leonard's lie. I told Bohuta to calm down before he does something foolish.
A week's wages, Franz! My children must eat. Leonard will pay for it.
I meant no harm! Maurice just looked at me and the words tumbled out.
Nota scribaeHe spoke loudly, making sure the passing miners heard him.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Prime
Once again I have put my name as surety for another man's venture. It is the duty of a prosperous townsman to help his neighbours. Though I warn you all, keep your purses close when Hugh Miller is about.
You talk too much, Franz. You haven't two pennies to rub together yourself.
Nota scribaeHe spent a long time hooking his thumbs in his belt before speaking.
the morrow of Candlemas, at dawn
Mein Gott, it is bitter cold. Broke my fast on dry bread and small beer because Cunne and Joerg ran off into the streets instead of fetching wood. Since my dear Zlata died, this house is nothing but chaos.
We went to watch the soldiers on the road, Father.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You have no gold yourself, Father. Do not speak of others' debts.
Hold your tongue, girl! I am a man of substance!