carpenter for hire, of Kuttenberg
“I am a bloody good carpenter. I work faster than any greybeard, provided I am not being robbed blind by the very men I drink with.”
Things Jarda Carpenter had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Philip Black is a sore loser and a thief. I won fair at dice behind the tavern, and the cripple snatched my lucky bone die. Christ's wounds, he accuses me of cheating just because he cannot roll! I am doing no man any favours until my die is returned.
Nota scribaeDictated in a rush. The man jabbed his finger at the page repeatedly.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Godfrey Fuller is still whining about his tin pitcher. He smashed my ash-wood trestle at Shrovetide when he was deep in his cups. The pitcher is a lawful pledge. Let him drink from a beggar's wooden bowl until he pays for my ruined wood.
It was an accident, lad. And that pitcher was my mother Isolde's last gift before I left.
I care nothing for your mother's gifts. I care for my ash-wood.
the Monday before Palm Sunday, at Terce
Stood in the hiring line all morning while the masters picked men twice my age who work half as fast. Ate a hard slice of cheese from the pie-sellers and went back to shape beams. A man without his own tools is treated like a boy.
Keep your head down and your mouth shut, lad, and the masters might pick you.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at None
Bread is dearer this week, and the roads are full of soldiers. Now the priest says the Pope wants every day written down for the Lord's reading. Christ's wounds, the Lord will see I am an honest worker surrounded by thieves, if the priest writes it straight.
Nota scribaeHe paused to spit on the floor of the parish house after saying this.
Candlemas, at Vespers
I lent my best plane to Hugh Miller this morning. A fine piece of work it is, cost me a month's savings. He swore to have it back to me before the bells rang for Compline. He had better keep his word, for a man's tools are his life.
You will have it soon enough, Jarda. I just need it to finish one last edge.
That was weeks ago, Hugh! Return it or I will take it back by force.
Never lend a tool to a man who dodges you in the street.
Nota scribaeHe spoke quickly and seemed very proud of the tool.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It was loaded, you arrogant whelp. God punished my hand, He did not take my eyes.
My rolls are as straight as my beams. Hand it over, Philip.