guard at the town hall, of Kuttenberg
“I stand by the Town Hall doors all day, keeping carters from running each other over. I do my duty, even if nobody in this cursed town appreciates it.”
Things Joseph had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second Tuesday in May, at None
By Saint Martin, it is a mortal sin to keep a man from his prayers! Andreas holds my carved wooden rosary out of pure malice. I need my beads. I will gladly give a few pennies to any good Christian who goes to him and retrieves it.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke very fast and jabbed his finger at my inkwell while speaking.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
Another bowl of dried peas on the bench outside the ale-wife's cellar. I ate fast so Udo would not ask for half. If Deputy Veit comes down from his warm office to find fault with my halberd today, I swear I will spit.
I saw you eating. I would not ask for your miserable peas, Joseph. My own bowl is bad enough.
the eve of Saint George, at Vespers
Nickel is weeping for his mother Kethe and her farm again. We have no trade but the watch, no family to catch us if we fall. I told the boy to dry his eyes and hold his pike straight before Veit gets us all turned out.
My mother keeps a warm hearth. It is no crime to miss it when the wind blows cold through the square.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Prime
The square is full of carters hauling bread that costs twice what it did last year, all cursing the King's brother for the roads. By Saint Martin, it is not my jurisdiction! I just stand at the doors and tell them to move their wagons.
Let them shout, Joseph. The stone does not care, and neither should you.
Nota scribaeHe spent most of the dictation complaining about the price of ale.
the Friday after Candlemas, at Compline
Andreas still glares at me across the room. He says I slept on watch when Bartel walked off into the ditch last autumn. I did not! The wind howled too loud to hear a thing. Markvart is the one who abandoned the rear watch, he should confess it.
I was exactly where the sergeant put me. Bartel drank his own senses away. Let the dead rest.
You were snoring by the fire, Joseph. I saw it with my own eyes.
You are a liar and a thief of holy beads!
Nota scribaeDictated in a foul temper. The man refused to stop swearing by Saint Martin.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You pledged those beads for the six groschen I paid the tavern keeper. Bring me the coin and you can pray all you like.