laundry maid at the river, of Kuttenberg
“I haul heavy, wet wool up the hill for the burghers' wives and earn every penny I get. Nobody looks out for me but me.”
Things Clemence had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at Prime
Mandelina took a tumble down the rotten cellar steps yesterday. Bloody fool spends all her coin on cheap ale to weep over her dead mother, then wonders why her legs won't hold her up. If the sweating sickness takes us all in this damp hole, I won't be shedding tears for her.
Nota scribaeShe shouted this while jabbing a finger at my chest. I asked her to step back.
the Tuesday after St Mark, at Vespers
That fat leech Kunz sent his rent-collector again today. I gave him a piece of my mind, sakra. The rains pour straight through the thatch onto my blankets, and I am still made to pay for the privilege. I pray his carriage loses a wheel on the Prague road and breaks his neck.
the second day of Easter week, at None
The river is half frozen and the wind bites right through my shift. Hauled four heavy baskets up to the burghers' wives today, and one complained there was mud on the hem. Kurva! Let her wash it herself next time. They say the King's brother has more soldiers on the roads. Let them come wash this wool.
They pay us to work, not to complain. But the wind is fierce today.
Nota scribaeDictated down by the river bank. The water is indeed freezing.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at Sext
Ottilie preaches at us about being honest, while serving that miserable bedridden crone Ursula. Yet I know perfectly well who pawned a good bascinet and padded jack belonging to the other girls in town. All to buy boots for her idiot brother Hans who marched off with the levy. Hypocrite.
the Monday after Ash Wednesday, at Compline
Ursel is crying about the bone sewing needle she lent me before Lent. I am keeping it pinned in my canvas sack to keep the rain off my bed. A month ago she clumsily knocked over my bowl of boiled beans in the dark. My only hot meal in weeks. The needle stays until she pays for the beans.
It was an accident! It was dark and you left the bowl on the floor! Give it back!
Admit you owe me for the food first. I need the canvas up.
Nota scribaeThe woman refused to lower her voice the entire time.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My mother was a good woman, sakra! You have a stone where your heart should be.
And you have a head full of ale. Look where you step.