guard at the shoemaker's door, of Kuttenberg
“I stand watch at Master Johlin's gate and mind my own business. My knees ache terribly, but I hold my ground.”
Things Eberhard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at Vespers
The sky turned black as pitch this afternoon and my neck is stiff as a board. Joerg says it is just spring rain, but I know what it means. I swore to walk barefoot to the monastery at Sedletz and I have not done it. The Lord is losing His patience with me.
Nota scribaeHe sighed three times before he finished speaking.
the feast of Saint Pancras, at Terce
Young Thomas is still sleeping in that ruined shed behind Heinz Stein's place. I told the lad to demand better from that tight-fisted master of his, but he will not listen. When old Lorenz was alive, God rest his soul, he would have dragged the boy out of the dirt by his ears.
the Tuesday after Saint George, at None
Kunigunde has been shouting across the yard all morning about Elsbeth and some gate left open. I just lean on my spear and rub my neck. A guard's lot is to listen to everyone's grievances and do absolutely nothing unless steel is drawn.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Else is weeping again over that tin ring her late mother Madlen gave her. She lost it somewhere in the yard. I helped Alice look for it near the storage shed, but my joints are screaming in protest. Bending down to the dirt is a young man's game.
It is all I have of her. I pray Saint Anthony helps me find it before the mud swallows it.
I looked by the kitchen plates but I dropped one, so I had to sweep the shards instead.
Nota scribaeDictated slowly, with much rubbing of the neck.
the second Wednesday of Lent, at Sext
Fritz is saving every penny he earns to buy his father's sword back from Johannes. He has not bought ale in a month. I told him to eat something before he faints on his watch, but he is a stubborn mule about his coin.
If that pawnbroker sells my steel to a stranger in Prague, I will have nothing. I do not need ale.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is only rain, Eberhard. Though I admit I saw a strange crow yesterday.