townsman working timber, of Kuttenberg
“I work timber and mind my own business. I do an honest day's work and expect others to do the same.”
Things Drslav Black had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
Dropped my adze in the yard because the iron is cast so poorly these days it slips from a man's grip. Had to listen to Standa Turner complaining about the levy again at the market. At least Robert Cook knows how to hold his tongue and do a day's work, even if he looks jumpy.
Nota scribaeHe dictated this with his left hand tucked firmly behind his belt.
the Thursday after Easter, at None
It has been three winters since the fever took my Johanka. The house is still hollow without her. I sat on the bench until midday because the ache in my bones from this damp spring is fierce. A man misses the one person who knew how to make a decent broth.
I remember digging her grave, Drslav. A good patch of earth. Up in heaven she has no need of broth.
the Wednesday before Palm Sunday, at Prime
The cold morning woke the old ache in my spine. Years ago a heavy wagon gate swung loose in the square and crushed me against the wall. My left hand still trembles from it. But I haul more timber by None than these young lads do all day.
You work hard, Drslav, but no shame in resting. The guild masters won't fault a man for catching his breath.
I have no need of rest, Jarda. Mind your own business.
Nota scribaeHe spoke gruffly and refused to sit down while I wrote.
St Gregory's day, at Sext
Bread costs twice what it did five years ago. The magistrates blame the war and the Cumans on the roads, but I say it is just greed. Saw Hugh Brook hovering around the stalls looking over his shoulder. I know a guilty conscience when I see one.
I have no guilty conscience, Drslav! I was only looking to see if Baldwin returned from Prague with my gear.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Compline
Got back to my empty house after hauling beams all day. The younger men watch me, waiting for me to slow down so they can take my work. They will be waiting until Judgment Day. Grinding my teeth against the work is better than begging for pennies at the church door.
Aye, the young ones have no respect for the sweat we pour into this town.
Nota scribaeHe barked these words at me in the street and walked off with a stiff gait.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I complain because the levy is bleeding us dry, old man. You try marching in the mud.
Leave it be, Standa. The wood was shaped well enough, Drslav.