guard at the town hall, of Kuttenberg
“I stand my watch and keep the beggars off the aldermen's boots. A man just wants his quiet and his pay.”
Things Richard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
The wind is raw enough to strip the skin off a man's face today. Leaned against the stone all morning while the merchants argued over the price of a bent horseshoe. At least the night watch is quiet, and the magistrates are in their beds. A man can rest his feet.
the Tuesday after Saint Pancras, at None
Marion is making noise about my tally again. Three weeks of ale, she says. I told her the captain's been slow with the coin, but she won't hear it. I wouldn't need credit if certain friends settled their accounts. A man can't drink on promises.
Promises don't brew the beer, Richard. Bring coin by Sunday or I go to the captain.
Patience, friend. It's not safe to melt the silver yet. Soon.
Nota scribaeThe man spat on the floor after he said this.
the feast of Saint Mark, at Terce
Some fool was asking about Frantishek today. That coward slept on watch and ran off to Prague when he was caught. Now young Jezhek is whining that it wasn't his fault. If a man can't stand the cold, he shouldn't take the oath. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
The royal soldiers marched past the gate this morning. Loud whoresons, bad for the peace. I saw Hermann keeping his head down among them. I hear they're eating the farms bare. Poor Peshek found out what happens when you forage in the wrong yard.
Peshek was a fool, but he was my friend. The dog took half his leg.
They eat like locusts, those soldiers. We'll be paying a groschen for a loaf soon.
Nota scribaeDictated at the town hall. He kept adjusting his scabbard as he spoke.
the feast of Saint Matthew, at Vespers
Spilled an ale by mistake and the young whelp Jezhek won't let it go. Demands I pay for it. I told him he should learn to sit steady at a table. He glares at me like I stole his father's breeches. The lad needs to learn his place before he speaks to his betters.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You'll freeze to the bench if you sit too long, Richard.
The captain doesn't pay us to rest our feet, he pays us to watch.
Shut your mouth, lad. Saint Peter himself would sit down if he had my knees.