hired hand, of Kuttenberg
“I haul timber, mend fences, and sweep the yard for the estate at Hradecka. I sweat all day, but they expect me to do it for nothing.”
Things Richard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St John before the Latin Gate, at Vespers
The housekeeper says we must wait out the war. Wait with what? I cannot eat the war. I told her today, plainly in the yard, she is starving us to feed the guards. She has silver down in the cellar, I am sure of it.
Nota scribaeHe spat in the dirt before speaking, and asked that I write down the exact noise it made. I have not.
the second Tuesday after Easter, at None
I told the lad Hermann not to cry over the bailiff's list. If the watch comes for the levy, he should run and hide in the woods. He would not last a day against a Hungarian sword. They take boys to die while the masters sit safe behind walls.
the Wednesday before Easter, at Prime
Standa is fretting about the fat priest wanting tithes. I told him he is a fool to pay. The church demands a cut of what we haven't got. We have seen no silver since Candlemas, and the priest threatens hellfire. Let him come sweep the yard and earn his own bread.
It is easy for you to say, Richard. You do not fear for your soul. But the priest says my prayers won't be heard.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly over the sound of a saw.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Terce
Swept the cobbles this morning until my back ached. Every loose stone on this estate mocks me. Bartholomew paces the yard wanting to leave but stays for a scrap of paper from the master. I told him to walk away. A piece of parchment won't feed him.
Without a reference, who will hire me? You speak bravely, Richard, but you are still here sweeping the same stones.
Only because they owe me, Bartholomew. The day I am paid is the day I walk.
the day after Candlemas, at Vespers
The roads are blocked with soldiers and the silver has stopped coming from the master. Kunigunde promised we would be paid by Easter. I will hold her to it. A labourer's sweat is worth its measure in coin. If she tries to cheat us, the whole town will hear of it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
There is no silver in the cellar, Richard, only empty barrels and dust. Shout all you like, I cannot coin groschen out of the air.
Then give me my character reference and let me go find a master who can.
Aye, we both need a good reference to leave. Do not anger her further or we'll get nothing.