mender of tunics and hose, of Kuttenberg
“I work my fingers to the bone pushing needles through coarse wool so my boy Kunz can eat. I pay my rent on the day it is due, and for my trouble I get rained on in my own bed.”
Things Gerta Baumann had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday after the Ascension, at None
The rain came down heavy again last night. We huddled in the corner, but the water poured right onto the mattress. I curse Claus and his counting-house. I sent Albrecht to the clerk to ask when the tiles will be replaced, and the man just laughed. My boy Kunz is coughing again.
Nota scribaeThe woman pointed at her wet bodice throughout the dictation.
the second day of Easter week, at Vespers
Dorothy and Gerda are still acting like sulky children. Living in this yard is hard enough without having to step around two grown women refusing to look at each other over a bucket of slops from Saint Martin's day. I told Dorothy to make her peace, but she just turned her back on me.
You mind your own mending, Gerta. She knows what she did to my washing.
the Thursday after Palm Sunday, at Sext
I saw the bailiff's men on the square today. Lucy is in a panic over the muster because that maidservant Lettice still has the padded jack she paid for. I'd pity her more if Ella wasn't still waiting for the heavy shears she lent to Lucy at Candlemas.
I will give Ella her shears back when I find them! But if I am fined for the jack, my father will beat me.
I need those shears, Lucy. The wool won't cut itself.
Nota scribaeDictated in the alley amidst a chorus of other women working.
the Wednesday before Saint Gregory, at Terce
Cunne was wincing again today over her needlework. She thinks her father Franz doesn't see how her back pains her, but everyone in the yard sees it. We work like mules for pennies, and the great men of Kuttenberg just sit in their stone houses and count the silver.
Hush, Gerta. If my father hears, he will worry, and we cannot afford for him to fret.
the Friday after Candlemas, at Prime
Albrecht went to the mint at dawn, but there were fifty men waiting for ten shifts. Bread is dearer than last year, and the soldiers on the road take what they please. If Claus demands his rent on Tuesday and my roof is still open to the sky, I will scream the house down.
I'll try the yards tomorrow, wife. Keep the boy warm.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is a sin the way that man treats honest folk. My own floor is damp from the runoff.
He will answer for it on Judgment Day, Juliana. If the ague doesn't take my boy first.