wife of a townsman, of Kuttenberg
“I keep a proper Christian household and ensure my family wears the whitest linen in our parish.”
Things Bozhena Hunter had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Terce
I offered Ella Richter some good woollen cloth today, as her own dresses are worn thin enough to see the sun through. She turned her nose up at it. Pride is a terrible sin, especially when one's skirts are dragging in the mud. I shall mend my husband's sleeves instead.
the eve of St Philip and St James, at Vespers
Annabel Cooper has lost her carding combs to Rosa Smith, and now she weeps over it. I have no pity for her. A respectable woman keeps a close eye on her tools. And Rosa is a common parasite who preys on the soft-headed. Keep your house in order, I say.
She swore she would return them by Sunday. How was I to know?
You should have shouted her down in the street until she gave them back.
Shouting in the street is for those who do not know better, Ursel.
Nota scribaeShe smoothed the front of her apron three times while dictating this.
the third day of Easter week, at None
I am a respectable wife, and I will not be spoken to like a peasant in the dirt. I threw my wash water into the street, and old Benesh chose to stand right where it fell. He called me names I will not repeat. I demand an apology before I ever speak to him again.
You jumped-up peasant, you ruined my boots! I am confined to my room with a rotting leg, I cannot jump out of your way.
Sister-in-law, perhaps just let it drop. He is an old sour man.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was very crisp, and her chin was raised the entire time.
the first Friday of Lent, at Prime
The price of bread is dear with all these soldiers on the roads, but my husband and William shall not go hungry. I baked three fine loaves this morning. We keep the fast strictly, unlike certain women in this parish who think the Lord does not see them eating drippings before Sext.
If you mean me, my aunt Isabel always said a little fat keeps the winter chill away.
Candlemas, before Prime
I was out with the broom before the first bells rang, sweeping the stoop until the stones shone. A respectable house must show a clean face to the world. I scrubbed my knuckles raw on William's shirts yesterday, but it is worth it to see my family walk in the light of the Lord.
You work too hard. A bit of dust never killed a townsman.
Nota scribaeShe made me inspect her hands to prove the knuckles were red.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I have no need of your cast-offs, Bozhena. My skirts are clean enough.
Clean they may be, Ella, but the Lord weaves no new thread for the proud.