woodcutter of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I swing an axe and keep my mouth shut. The Lord knows a quiet man is hard to find.”
Things John had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Prime
The cart master says a share will cost me soon. I checked the oak block in the yard this morning. The wood is sound and the rot has not touched what is inside.
Nota scribaeHe stared at his hands the whole time he spoke, picking at a splinter.
the feast of St Pancras, at Vespers
Anna dropped a heavy pot today. Her hand never healed right from three winters back. I chopped an extra pile of kindling so she would not have to fetch it from the cold.
The pot was greasy, Uncle. My hand is fine enough for work.
the Tuesday after St George, at None
Christina is weeping over that journeyman Konrad again. He has been in Prague a month. If a man wanted to come back, he would not have gone to Prague in the first place.
You know nothing of love! He promised he would send for me.
Nota scribaeDictated at the woodpile. The man spoke very softly.
the Friday after Easter, at Terce
Karl has been lying washed and shrouded in the room since Tuesday. Father Sebastian wants twelve groschen to put him in the earth. Berchta has six. The house smells worse than usual, and I want no part of it.
The church must have her due, John. It is for his soul's rest.
I told you, four groschen and no questions asked. A hole is a hole.
I will not have my husband buried like a stray dog in the dark!
Nota scribaeHe asked that the last part be struck out and then that it be put back.
the second week of Lent, at Sext
The frost is hard on the axe blade. I broke a handle on a knotted log and had to spend half my day's wage fixing it. Christ almighty, the wood is tough this year.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Better check it twice, lad. Thieves are thick as flies this year.