seller of pewter wares, of Kuttenberg
“I sell tin cups and plates at the edge of the market square. It is a hard living, but my wares shine like silver if you put some sweat into the polishing.”
Things William Mason had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at None
They say clerk Lawrence was seen writing names near the lower town. If the bailiff calls another muster, I am ruined. John Cooper pawned my padded jack, and Hugh lost my spear. I have nothing but a tin cup to wave at the Hungarians.
Nota scribaeHe scratched the back of his neck for a long time before saying this.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
John Cooper still holds my best pewter jug. He says I broke his wooden bowls last Martinmas. I say his rack was shoved halfway into the bloody thoroughfare! Anyone who gets my jug back from that hoarder will earn a few groschen from me.
You were blind drunk and tripped over your own clumsy feet. Twenty groschen or you never see the jug again.
the second Friday of Lent, at Prime
The floor of Denise's cellar is colder than a bishop's charity. I would not mind it so much if Alan did not groan about his bad back all night. A man needs sleep if he is to stand in the square from dawn to dusk.
My back is ruined from catching your heavy sack when you drop it, William.
If you have breath to complain, you have coin for a better bed. The rent is due tomorrow.
Nota scribaeThe man Alan was standing right there and did not look at all pleased to hear this.
the Monday after St Matthias, at Sext
Amice and Heinz are fighting again about the march two winters ago. Poor Baldwin died of the flux in a ditch, God rest him. Arguing will not bring the lad back, nor will it warm us now. We should leave the dead to their rest.
It was the bailiff's fault for making a fragile boy walk with the heavy wagons.
Candlemas, at Terce
Spent the morning rubbing my plates until my fingers went numb. My wares shine better than half the silver in Kuttenberg, though the guildmen look down their noses at me. If I had the coin to join a guild, I would not be freezing out here.
They shine well enough, lad. Keep your chin up and watch your grip.
Nota scribaeDictated beside the market cross. He dropped a cup while speaking and sighed heavily.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It was a rotten spear anyway, William. The wood was warped before we even marched.
It cost me silver I did not have to spare, you whoreson!