spinner of coarse wool, of Kuttenberg
“I spin wool from dawn to dark to pay for a room that rains indoors. Someone has to stand up to the landlord before we all rot.”
Things Adelheid Schumacher had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The clerk took my two groschen and wrote the petition to the bailiff. It is a fine piece of parchment, but it needs Clara's mark. If only her husband Gottfried would go to the alehouse for an hour, I could get it done. I will pay a stranger to take it to her if I must.
Nota scribaeShe spoke in a low voice and kept looking at the door.
the feast of St Mark, at None
Kethe is weeping again over a bone thimble her mother left her. A thimble! I told her she should save her tears for the rain coming through the ceiling. Fritz works hard at the ovens, but Kethe has no sense of what matters.
It was my mother Margaret's, God rest her soul. You have a heart of stone, Adelheid.
Leave her be, sister. Not everyone can be as hard as you.
the second day of Easter week, at Terce
Hans has gone to Prague to argue some deed, leaving us to drown in our own beds. The snow melt ruined half a basket of good wool yesterday. Helena is terrified he will throw us out if we complain, but I refuse to live like a pig.
Please, Adelheid. If the bailiff tells Hans, we will have nowhere to go.
May the devil take Hans and his deeds. My bed is soaked through.
Nota scribaeDictated while spinning. Her hands smelled strongly of wet timber.
the Friday after St Gregory, at Sext
Lucy Baker is wailing in the street again about her sister Lene. I pity the girl, truly I do, with the Hungarians burning everything, but we have our own battles here in Kuttenberg. We cannot fight the King's brother, but we can fight a greedy landlord.
Lene is all I have left! How can you care more about a roof than a life?
Candlemas, at Prime
Mary Weaver borrowed Drahomira's best tool and now claims she lost it. Madlen is still holding onto those goose quills. They bicker like children over scraps while the timber above our heads rots away. I have no time for thieves or grudges.
I did not steal it! It was misplaced. You mind your own wheel, Adelheid.
I mended that cloak, I earned those quills. You think you are better than all of us.
Nota scribaeThe woman pointed sharply at the wall as she spoke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Gottfried says the watch will throw us in the gaol if we make trouble. I cannot sign it, Adelheid. He would beat me.
Gottfried is a coward. We will be sleeping in the street anyway when the roof falls in.