seamstress and spinner, of Kuttenberg
“I keep my head down and my purse tightly shut. Kuttenberg will strip a woman bare if she is not careful.”
Things Ella Richter had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at None
The travelling merchant comes before Saint John's Day. I counted what little I have. I must take in more mending if I am to have anything of my own. Every groschen counts.
Nota scribaeShe stopped herself halfway through a sentence and glared at me until I crossed it out.
the feast of Saint Mark, at Vespers
Else and Kunigunde are gone to the alehouse again. They asked for a loan of three pennies. I told them no. A woman's belongings are her only shield in this harsh world.
It was only three pennies, you tight-fisted hen. We are your own blood.
Three pennies I earned with my own hands. Drink water from the well.
the third day of Easter week, at Terce
I saw Bozhena screaming like a common fishwife at old Benesh over a splashed skirt. Fine clothes mean nothing if you lack quiet dignity. Respectability does not shriek in the street.
The old bastard threw slops on my good wool! You would scream too if you owned anything worth ruining.
Nota scribaeDictated while she furiously patched a coarse linen shirt.
the Wednesday after Saint Gregory, at Prime
The baker's wife charges less if you look as though you have nothing. A threadbare apron saves a groschen a week. Let the fools pay for their own pride.
That is clever, Ella. I never thought to do such a thing.
Candlemas, at Sext
Jitka was incredibly stupid to lend her aunt Isabel's fine iron shears. And Annabel losing her carding combs to Rosa! This town will pick your bones clean if you trust anyone.
Aunt Isabel would have wanted them used. Though I pray they are returned soon.
I only borrowed the combs, they are perfectly safe. You have a sour heart, Ella.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Come to the tavern, Ella! You work too much and live too little.