mender and fletching wife, of Kuttenberg
“I mend clothes for the neighbours, and I help my husband fletch arrows. It's mostly the mending that keeps bread on the table.”
Things Gerda Fletcher had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Ascension Day, at Vespers
The weavers are still screaming over this levy. Zlata and Agnes pawned their men's jacks to Vitek the broker, and now the muster is nearly upon us. I told them not to play games with such men. Denis and I have our iron caps safely locked away. A little foresight saves a great deal of wailing.
the eve of Saint Mark, at Prime
Denis and Alan are fighting again over the glue pot. Alan says the pitch is too thin, Denis says Alan does not know how to stir it. My head aches from the shouting. I need Alan out of this house and in the guild, but my jar under the hearth is still too light. If my brother Havel in Prague remembered his blood, he might send a groschen or two. Men forget.
He puts water in the pitch to make it stretch, Gerda! The arrows will fall apart before they hit a Hungarian.
I was making arrows before you were born, boy. Shut your mouth and fetch the feathers.
Nota scribaeShe sighed heavily while dictating this, pointing at the wall with a needle.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Katherine Braun came to me today, complaining that Magdalena Ebner has kept her heavy shears since Candlemas. I merely looked at her. Katherine has held Enneleyn Thal's stretching frame since the snows melted. They are all hypocrites. I lend nothing, and I borrow nothing. It is the only way to live in peace.
Enneleyn told me to keep the frame! And I need my shears for the thick wool.
the Friday after Saint Gregory, at Terce
The weavers brought me four torn tunics this morning. Mending pennies, they call them, but they buy the bread when the arrow silver goes to the tavern. Agatha and Beatrice helped me sort the threads. They are good girls, and quiet, unlike the men in this house. I added three pennies to the jar. It is slow, but it grows.
You do good work, Gerda. The seams hold well.
Nota scribaeShe spoke softly, glancing toward the hearth.
Candlemas, at Sext
Soldiers everywhere, and the price of flour goes up every week. Denis says the war is good for the fletching trade, but what good is silver if the baker demands twice as much for a loaf? And Denis drinks half of what we make anyway. I must find a way to get Alan's guild fee together before the year is out. This house will break if I do not.
I drink to keep my hand steady! And a man must have his ale after a long day's work.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is easy for you to preach, Gerda. We needed bread in the winter, and Vitek swore he would hold the jacks until the harvest.
And now you must buy them back at twice the price. You should have mended clothes instead.