spinner of fine thread, of Kuttenberg
“I spin fine thread and keep to myself. A groschen saved is a step out of this wretched yard, and I have no time for fools.”
Things Mandelina Albrecht had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Compline
My eyes sting from the smoke, but the spindle must turn. Bread is dearer again today. I heard Joerg is still shut in his house with the sweat. If he sells that dry stall to a stranger before my hollow spindle is full, I will have starved myself on watered pottage for nothing.
Nota scribaeDictated in the near dark. She rubbed her eyes constantly but blamed the hearth fire.
the second day of Easter week, at Vespers
Leonard came banging at the cellar door asking for a loan to buy ale. I slammed it in his face. A borrowed tool is a lost tool, and a lent groschen is gone forever. I have no silver for idle drunkards.
You are my own sister, tight-fisted and cold! It was only for one cup.
Leave her be, Leonard. She works hard for her keep.
the Tuesday before Palm Sunday, at None
Gerta and Cunne spent the whole morning screaming over a spilled dye pot and a pewter jug. Fools, the lot of them. Pride and shouting will not pay the leaseholder when he raises the rent again because of these soldiers on the road.
It was my good jug, you cold-hearted miser. You care for nothing but yourself.
the feast of St Gregory, at Sext
Clemence is weeping again over that sell-sword Kunz. Tears are a luxury for the rich. Common folk can only afford to care about silver. I scrubbed my hands red with harsh soap today just to wash the yard's filth off before touching the merchant's silk.
He will come back rich from Prague, you will see! You have no heart, Mandelina.
Nota scribaeShe counted on her fingers as she spoke, tapping them sharply against her palm.
the first Friday of Lent, at Prime
The mercenaries bring nothing but trouble, and the bread price has tripled. Every day Agatha Fletcher watches me work, hoping I slow down. Let her watch. I slip my pennies where no desperate woman or soldier will ever find them, and my spindle turns faster than hers.
We shall see who brings the silver to Joerg first.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I saw you drop a stitch today, Mandelina. You are too tired to make the sum before I do.
My hands are clean and my needle is fast, fool. Mind your own work.