mender and washerwoman, of Kuttenberg
“I just want to finish my hems in peace and keep out of everyone's way. If I keep my head down, perhaps they will stop asking me questions.”
Things Alice Cook had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
The Monday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The light is failing and I must finish this seam before dark. I know I am dreadfully slow, but my stitches are the neatest in the whole yard. I just wish this heavy wool did not blunt my cheap iron needles so fast. My fingers are bleeding again.
Nota scribaeShe showed me the stitches. They were indeed neat, though she spoke too fast to be properly understood at first.
The Tuesday after St John before the Latin Gate, at Sext
My hands are raw from the lye vat today. I huddled by the wall to eat my pottage because Sibyl Albrecht was screaming through the wood at poor Grete again about that boy Gottfried. I feel terribly sad for the girl, but I dare not catch Sibyl's eye.
Keep your nose in your wash-tub, Alice Cook. That levied boy is a beggar who will die in a ditch, and my daughter is not for him.
The eve of St George, at Terce
I sit here sewing with my blunt needles while Lene Muller cuts cloth right across the yard with Avice's fine Nuremberg shears. I know exactly where they are, but I am far too frightened of Lene's blunt tongue to demand them back. I can only watch and seethe.
If you want them so badly, come and ask for them. I am not walking over there to hand them to you.
Wait, Lene has my Nuremberg shears? Alice, you told me they were at the grinder's shop!
Nota scribaeShe was wringing her apron the entire time she spoke, staring across the yard.
The Wednesday after St Gregory, at None
I finally asked Matilda for Avice's shears back. She only laughed at me and said she gave them to Lene Muller! What am I to do? I only lent them to her because I wanted her to like me. If Avice demands silver for them, I will starve.
Oh, stop wringing your hands. Lene needed them for her work. You will get them back when she is quite done.
But they are not mine to lend, Matilda! They cost a fortune!
Candlemas, at Vespers
I asked Avice Thatcher for her good shears just to cut a heavy hem. Then Matilda Green said she needed them for canvas. I gave them to her so she would think well of me, and she promised them back tomorrow. I pray she keeps her word.
You had best bring them back by Sunday, Alice. They cost good silver and I need them for my own work.
Nota scribaeDictated in a rush. The girl stammered so badly it took until Compline to get this down.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Your hemming is very fine, Alice. Do not let the older wives tell you otherwise.