townsman, of Kuttenberg
“I spin yarn when the mood strikes me, and run errands for the ale-wives when it doesn't. Sitting at a loom all day is for old women and nuns.”
Things Matilda Green had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of St George, at None
Alice Cook was crying by the well again. The woman would weep if it rained on a Tuesday. Now she's wailing about Avice Thatcher's shears. God's teeth, I took them when she pushed them on me, I used them, and I left them with Lene Muller. If Alice wants them, she can go ask Lene herself. Not my fault she's afraid of her.
Nota scribaeShe laughed when dictating this, waving her hands.
the first Tuesday after Easter, at Vespers
I saw Agnes Gerber today, sneaking near the market stalls with a heavy pouch. The most pious hen in the yard, mind you! I'll wager a groschen she's pinching coins from Peter. It's the quiet ones you have to watch. I nearly choked on my ale laughing.
I was buying candles for the altar, you wicked girl! Some of us think of our souls.
Your soul must be very expensive, Agnes.
Nota scribaeDictated at the alehouse. The woman smelled strongly of beer.
the second day of Lent, at Terce
Sibyl Albrecht is shouting again. I swear the woman’s voice could crack a church bell. I carried a little note for young Grete today. The girl’s head is full of that soldier Gottfried, and Sibyl hates it. Good. Let the girl have her romance. Anything is better than listening to Sibyl.
If I catch you passing notes to my daughter from that worthless beggar, I'll drag you by your hair!
Best stay out of it, Matilda. Sibyl has a heavy hand.
the Wednesday before Lent, at Sext
Felice was nagging at the mint today, begging anyone to carry messages to her old mother Elsbeth out in Maleshov. God's teeth, the roads are full of soldiers! I told her I’m staying right here where the ale flows and the men aren't trying to steal my boots. Why doesn't she go herself?
My mother is bedridden and I have work! Have you no pity?
I have plenty of pity, I just don't have armored legs.
Candlemas, at Prime
Alice Cook shoved this magnificent pair of Nuremberg shears into my hands this morning, begging me to take them so I'd like her better. A fine tool, I'll admit. Better than my landlord Hannes squeezing pennies from old Clara Binder. I'll find a use for them before I pass them on.
Hannes is a greedy pig. The roof over my shed leaks every time it rains.
Just don't lose them, Matilda! They belong to Avice!
Nota scribaeShe spent the morning spinning yarn before dictating this.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You promised to bring them right back! Avice will have my hide if I don't give them to her by Whitsun.
I needed them for heavy canvas. You gave them to me, Matilda. Tell Alice to stop her whining.
See, Alice? Lene has them. Go cry to her.