baker at the market ovens, of Kuttenberg
“I bake dark rye for the miners and keep a close eye on the grist. A man should do his honest work and hold his tongue.”
Things Kunz Klein had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
My joints ache like the devil's own teeth today. I went to the Chmelna bathhouse to soak the flour out of my skin. Abbess Barbara keeps the drunken miners in line well enough, but God rest old Constance. She could make a Cuman mercenary blush with one word.
Nota scribaeHe rapped his heavy knuckle on the table after every sentence.
the Monday after St Pancras, at Terce
Sent a few miners over to Fritz Schönpetr's bench this morning. The lad stands there praying for a massive commission that never comes. Better he gets honest pennies now than takes a bad loan from a worse man later.
You are a good man, Kunz. I sold every last loaf you sent my way.
You spoil the boy. Let him learn to shout for his own trade.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
Listened to Hynek Fair whining all morning about a strip of land he disputes with his brother Anthony. A profound disgrace. Brothers should not bicker in the market over dirt. If a man loses a fortune in silver to his own blood, he ought to bear it in silence.
It is my dirt, Kunz, and he stole it. Stick to your dough.
A wise sentiment, brother. Family matters are gifts of grace, not ledgers to be balanced.
Christ almighty, Eberhard. Have you no shame?
Nota scribaeDictated at the ovens. He glared across the square at a merchant the entire time.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Grain prices are high again. Sigismund's soldiers are crawling over the roads and honest millers are afraid to move their carts. I had to chase idlers away from my fresh loaves. Lazy ruffians everywhere, waiting for a handout while working men break their backs.
Praise be, someone speaks sense. Keep your head down and work.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Compline
Trade is frozen solid and the cold is bitter. I handed over a heavy purse of groschen to my brother Eberhard to keep his shop from ruin. I expect an honourable return when the thaw comes. Blood is blood, and a man helps his own.
You have a good heart, Kunz. Let us hope he remembers it.
A true fraternal gift! The Lord will reward your endless charity, brother.
Nota scribaeHe sighed heavily and rubbed his scarred hands by the hearth.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I heard that, Kunz. The water is hot regardless of who runs the girls.
No offense meant, Abbess. You manage the tubs well.