dyer at the weaver's yard, of Kuttenberg
“I run the dye vats, and it is not work for fools. My colours never run, and I make sure I am paid what I am owed.”
Things Cunne Friedrich had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday after St John before the Latin Gate, at Vespers
Paid the interest to the widow Berchta behind the old mint today. Three winters since the river froze and cracked my vats, and the principal never shrinks. Fools in this yard weep over sell-swords, but they do not know what it is to fear a locked chest.
Nota scribaeShe counted the coins three times before letting me write this.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Gerta Braun is telling half the town I am a thief. I am not. She kicked my madder pot last week and ruined it. She blamed the wind. I have her pewter jug in my chest, and there it stays until she brings me twenty groschen or begs my pardon.
It was the wind, you spiteful bitch! Give me back my mother's jug before I call the bailiff!
Call him. I will show him the red stain on your boots.
The wind was fierce that day, Cunne. I saw the shutters banging.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at None
The hired girls are useless. I turned my back to eat a crust of bread, and one of them let the woad vat go cold. I shouted until my throat was raw. My colours do not run because I watch the fires, not because of magic.
You are too hard on them, Cunne. They are only young.
They are fools who will cost me my livelihood.
Nota scribaeDictated in the yard. The smell of stale urine was overpowering.
the feast of St Gertrude, at Sext
Bread is dearer again this week. They say the Hungarian king's men are taking the grain on the roads. I do not care who sits on the throne in Prague, but if the madder powder goes up another groschen, we will all be begging in the street.
God protect us from the Cumans. They say they burn everything.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
I borrowed Adleta Miller's best flax comb yesterday for a small task. She was weeping that I must bring it right back. She does not even need it right now, the flax is not ready. I will keep it until my work is done. Possession is the only law here.
You said you only needed it for an hour! Bring it back, Cunne!
When I am finished, Adleta. Do not be a child.
Nota scribaeShe had the comb in her apron as she spoke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you mean Kunz, he is no sell-sword but a hero, and he will bring back silver enough for us all.
He will drink your dowry in a week, you soft child.