merchant's wife, of Kuttenberg
“I am Joerg Binder's wife and I keep a respectable merchant's house. The Lord knows I get little thanks for the sweat it takes.”
Things Clara Binder had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Alice Cook lost those expensive shears and now the whole yard hears of nothing else. If these girls had a proper merchant's house to keep, they would not have time to squabble over borrowed tools. Thank heaven for Agnes Gerber, the only sensible woman among them.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
Enneleyn Plümel is looking at the sky for a curse because she has not walked barefoot to Sedletz yet. I told her God understands common sense. The roads are full of hungry Hungarians. The Lord does not want you dead in a ditch over a fever vow.
It is a holy vow, Clara! You cannot just brush it away because of soldiers.
Nota scribaeShe sighed heavily before every sentence and waved her hand at the yard.
the feast of St Gregory, at Compline
Grete and Fritz think I am here just to wash their linen and serve their meat. Not a word of thanks when I set the bowls down. I am a merchant's wife, not a hired housemaid, even if they are my own age.
The meat was cold and tough, Clara.
Because you were late coming back from the tavern. The hearth does not wait for you.
the first week of Lent, at None
That greedy pig Hannes is still away in Prague playing the fine gentleman, while the roof of my shed in the yard lies in pieces. The wood is entirely rotten. How am I to let it to passing travellers now? I have lost my only source of silver.
He is a wretch. He takes our pennies and ignores the rot in every timber.
Nota scribaeDictated while buying onions. She asked me not to write the part about her own silver, then changed her mind.
Candlemas, at Prime
The snow is up to the doorframes. I am up at first light to stir the hearth so Joerg does not catch a chill, while he snores in the main bed. A woman's work in this house is never seen.
The fire was well built this morning, wife. Praise be.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I only gave them to Matilda! It is not my fault they went missing after that.
Best to leave them to their noise, Clara. We have our own work.