gravedigger at Saint Barbara's, of Kuttenberg
“I dig the graves at Saint Barbara's. It is bloody hard work, but the dead do not complain.”
Things Joerg had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after St Mark, at Vespers
Old Karl died in his bed on Tuesday. Father Sebastian wants twelve groschen for the burial, which Berchta does not have. I told her I would put him in the ground quietly for four groschen and a jug of ale, but she is too proud. Sakra, the man is starting to smell.
Nota scribaeDictated while leaning on a spade. He laughed loudly at the end.
the third day of Easter week, at None
The winter sickness is keeping my spade busy. I dig the straightest holes in Kuttenberg, even with three jugs of ale in my belly. You need the ale to keep the chill of the earth out of your bones and the stink out of your nose.
You drink too much, Joerg. One day you will fall into one of your own holes.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Sext
Drinking at the tavern with John. He is a good lad, mostly because he keeps his mouth shut and lets me talk. I know he is hiding coin for a timber cart somewhere in his yard, but I do not pry. A man's dirt is his own business.
Keep your voice down about the coin, bloody hell. There are thieves everywhere.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of sour ale and turned earth.
the eve of St Matthias, at Compline
Father Sebastian is a coward who hides behind the Cistercian ledgers. He cares more for the abbey's purse than the souls of the poor folks dropping dead in the streets. I will dig a hole for anyone if they have four groschen.
The Lord hears your blasphemy, gravedigger. Mind your tongue before you need my prayers.
Candlemas, at Prime
Menhard marched off to Hungary with the levy three months ago, but I have not forgotten our argument over the price of a pint. I was right, and the whoreson owes me an apology. I want everyone in this town to admit I was right.
He is gone to the war, Joerg. Let it rest, for Christ's sake.
I will not let it rest. A groschen and a half was too much for watered piss.
Nota scribaeHe shouted this so loudly my ears rang.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My Karl will lie in blessed ground, Joerg. I will not have him buried in the dirt like a stray dog.
The abbey sets the fees, Joerg, not I. Do not tempt the poor woman to sin.