mender and townswoman, of Kuttenberg
“I mend what is torn, wait for word from the east, and pray the Lord preserves my family. God willing, I will find my husband Alan before this leg gives out entirely.”
Things Marika Bell had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Wednesday before Ascension, at None
God willing, a carter will take my letter to Pritoky soon. I wrote it down plain: I am here, Alan, and I never stopped waiting. They say he is at Zelinaruv dum, and there is a woman Adleta with him, but a housekeeper is no reason he cannot send for me.
Nota scribaeShe rubbed her knuckles until they were red while dictating this.
the eve of St Philip and St James, at Vespers
The wind is blowing from the north again, and the thatch is letting in the rain. Benesh moved the bucket three times before he broke his fast. Our landlord Denis sits safe in the town hall with his clerk while we drown in our sleep. Christ almighty, the man has no shame.
The water missed the hearth, at least. We'll stuff the hole with rags when the rain stops.
The rent is due on the Feast of the Cross. If the room does not suit you, there are a dozen who will gladly take it.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Terce
Nicholas says the bread at the market is a groschen more than it was before Lent. How are we to live? I mend everything Benesh and Joan bring me, but my leg aches too fiercely to stand at the stalls. God willing, the King will return and set the prices right.
It's the soldiers, Marika. They eat everything before the flour even reaches the town.
I can bring some of the hard loaves from the alehouse if the master doesn't see.
Nota scribaeThe scribe noted that everyone complains of the bread prices, but the King is a long way off.
the second week of Lent, at Prime
I walked as far as the lower gate today to ask a merchant from the Trosky road if he had seen Alan. My leg was stiff as wood by the time I returned. I remember how I hid in the ditch six winters ago while the village burned. It seems I am still hiding.
You shouldn't walk so far. I can ask the merchants when I go to the docks.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
God willing, this holy decree will do some good. A traveller passing through told me he saw a man with Alan's face working the fields at Pritoky. I have the pennies saved for a letter. I just need a proper scribe and someone honest enough to carry it.
Don't spend your last coin on hope, Marika. If it isn't him, it will break your heart again.
It is him. The man said he had the exact scar on his brow. I have been faithful six years, he owes me an answer.
Nota scribaeShe paid three pennies for this entry and asked twice if I knew any men walking to Pritoky.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It has been six years, Marika. The carters take your pennies, but they never bring him back.
He did not perish, Felice. I know it in my bones. If Pavlena had not spoken out of turn, he would have known I lived.
He received a letter. It confused him greatly. I keep his house, yes, and I am his wife. He thought you died in the fire.