housewife of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I keep a clean hearth and a hot meal for my husband. A tidy house needs no excuse.”
Things Magdalena Shepherd had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the second day of May, at Sext
The damp has settled in the stones today. I saw Mistress Ursula walking from the square, and we gave each other a look. We know what this weather does. I spent the morning rubbing the knuckles of my left hand, keeping it in my apron when Zdenyek came in for his meal.
the Friday after Easter, at None
I gave Christine Cooper three pennies to handle the heavy linen at the wash-tubs this morning. She is loud, and I have no wish to stand about hearing who lent a hackle to whom, but she has the strength for wringing out wet wool, and I have other chores at home.
The pennies were good, but you missed a fine row about Ellen's shears. Alice Cook was furious.
My shears are still not back! Christine is the one who took them.
This is why my knives never leave my kitchen, Ellen.
Nota scribaeThe woman spoke very quietly, pausing often to rub her left hand.
the Tuesday before Palm Sunday, at Vespers
I watched young Grete weeping by the well again. Ruining her eyes over that stableboy Francis who ran off to Kolin. She has a warm bed and a full belly, and she throws her peace away for nothing. Young girls have no sense of what truly matters in this life.
You do not understand. He promised he would come back when he had made his fortune.
Dry your eyes and sweep the floor, Grete. Dust does not care about promises.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Woke before the bells to rake the ashes and light the fire. It took longer today; the iron tongs feel heavier each year. But by the time Zdenyek rose, the pottage was hot and the floor was swept. A man needs order before his day begins.
Ay, the pottage was good. A working man needs a hot meal, and you never fail me, wife.
Nota scribaeShe insisted I write that the floor was swept.
the Monday after Candlemas, at Terce
Saw poor Elsbeth counting her half-pennies near the wash-house. Apollonia works her too hard. I wish I could give her a bowl of pottage, but Zdenyek says we cannot feed the whole street, and he is right. I hear that pawnbroker Jezhek is finally locked up. Good riddance.
Thank you, Mistress Magdalena. I will get mother's rosary back, even if Jezhek rots in the gaol forever.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I felt it before dawn. We endure what the Lord sends, Magdalena, but the spring rains are a heavy cross.