tradesman's daughter, of Kuttenberg
“I am kept a prisoner in my own home while my true love makes his fortune. They think I will marry some old merchant, but I would rather die.”
Things Grete Albrecht had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Terce
I saw poor Ursula Berg on her porch today, her face tight with pain from her back. I shudder to think of it. My father brings older men to supper, looking at me like a prize mare. I will not end up trapped in a joyless marriage to a greybeard. Francis must hurry.
Nota scribaeShe sighed heavily before and after dictating.
the second day of May, at None
Mandelina rode the wagon to Kolin again this morning and flatly refused to carry my letter to Francis. She is the most heartless sister in all Bohemia. Ellen Brook begs her to carry messages to her sister Lucy and Mandelina listens, but for her own flesh and blood she does nothing!
Ellen Brook pays me in peace and quiet when I say no. You just scream. Francis is a stableboy, Grete. Let it go.
Lucy is my sister! I have every right to send word to her, and she needs to hear from me.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
We had meat for the feast, a great roast, but it tasted like ashes. My mother Sibyl made another passing comment about my marriage prospects. I crossed my arms and refused to eat a single bite. They care only for the Albrecht name, not my soul.
Lord give me strength. You will eat what is put before you and marry the man I choose.
Nota scribaeDictated in a sullen whisper while staring at the floor.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Sext
I spend my midday hours staring out the window at the street. Christine Cooper and Avice Thatcher are always fighting over pieces of dirty iron. And Elsbeth Steiner sneaks pennies under the floorboards. Why throw away a secure roof for a pawnbroker? They are all absolute idiots.
You sit in your warm house with clean hands, Grete. You know nothing of what my mother's rosary means to me.
Nota scribaeThe word she used was not 'idiots', but a much coarser term.
the day after Candlemas, at Compline
It has been months since my parents drove my Francis away to Kolin. He is handsome and honest, and I know with fiery certainty he will return a rich man to marry me. I will wait for him until the end of days, no matter what my father says.
I am working hard in the stables here in Kolin, Grete. The coin is poor, but I have not forgotten you.
He is mucking out horses, sister. He is not coming back a prince.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Mind your tongue, girl. A respectable merchant is a blessing, not a curse.
My husband Joerg is a good man, Grete. You know nothing of life.