minter's wife, of Kuttenberg
“I keep my husband's hearth and try to live a righteous life among sinners. I pray for the souls under my roof.”
Things Enneleyn Plümel had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at None
The wind howled all night and a clay cup shattered on the hearthstone. I crossed myself three times. It is a sign of the Lord's wrath, I know it. I have not forgotten my vow to walk barefoot to Sedletz, but how can I, with those Hungarian cutthroats on the road? Holy Mother protect us.
Nota scribaeShe kept making the sign of the cross the entire time she spoke.
the second day of May, at Vespers
I heard Sibyl screaming at her daughter again today. It makes my blood run cold to hear such pride and defiance of love. Poor Grete and her Gottfried. I pray for the boy in the garrison. The Lord sees all, and pride is a mortal sin that will rot the bones.
Mind your own pots, Enneleyn. That beggar boy has no groschen to his name.
It is a sad thing to keep them apart. Young love is a fragile blossom.
the Wednesday after Easter, at Terce
Martin threw a mutton bone on the floor and told me to fetch him more ale. I bore it in silence, as the Lord commands. It is a trial set by God to test my meekness. I scrub the pots until my knuckles bleed, and they treat me like a scullery maid.
The ale was warm. Get it right next time.
They have no respect. We share the same cross, Enneleyn.
Nota scribaeShe whispered the whole thing very quickly.
the first week of Lent, at Sext
Clara's shed collapsed under the snow. I told her it is a divine warning against the landlord Hannes, who went to Prague to steal his brother's inheritance. God strikes down the wicked. I wish Clara would pray with me instead of crying over rotted timber.
Praying won't keep the rain off my head. He needs to fix the roof.
Hannes is a greedy man. He deserves a broken roof.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Prime
Fritz's fever broke this morning! Praise the Holy Mother. I knelt by the hearth for three days and swore a holy vow to walk barefoot to Sedletz if he lived. He is weak, but he breathes easy. The Lord heard my wretched prayers.
I feel better, wife. The barber-surgeon knows his trade.
It was the Lord's mercy, Fritz, not the barber's leeches.
Nota scribaeShe wept and made me write the whole vow down.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The roads are no place for a decent woman. You are right to stay by the hearth.
A vow is a vow. If the Lord strikes you down, it will be your own fault for dawdling.
I will go when the soldiers are gone. God knows my heart is willing.