guard at the fish stall, of Kuttenberg
“I stand by the fish at number fifteen Tarmark and keep the hungry bastards from stealing it.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at Vespers
Master Joerg still holds my heavy wood-axe hostage in the yard. Lends a mate your tools during the bitter freeze, and this is the thanks. He claims I snapped his rotten fish-gaff, so he kept my axe for payment. That is outright theft. If some stranger would pay the old badger ten groschen, I could get it back to chop my firewood.
Nota scribaeThe man spat on the cobblestones after every sentence.
the second day of May, at Terce
Kunz from down the street is whining about his knees again. The idiot got into a shouting match with Grete the washerwoman, and now he reckons she cursed him. I keep telling him to go and apologise to the woman. Standing on these stones is bad enough without listening to him groan all morning.
the Tuesday of Easter week, at Prime
I saw soldiers on the road today. I am strong, I know my way around a blade. I could be earning double out there as a mercenary instead of guarding stinking barrels. But with all the cutthroats about, a man takes the safe work. At least nobody shoots arrows at me here.
Nota scribaeHe crossed his arms and puffed out his chest to look broader than he is.
the feast of St Gregory, at None
My soul is heavy. Last winter, the ice nearly capsized our boat. Master Joerg and I swore to God we would walk barefoot to Sedletz to give thanks if we survived. We lived, but we have not made the walk. I fear hellfire, but if I leave the stall, the old man will sack me.
The Lord knows we are busy, lad. We will make the walk when the work slows.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
It is freezing out here in the yard. I haul the salt fish out, then stand here glaring at the hungry refugees so they do not get ideas. Master Joerg is probably inside counting pennies next to Lene's old chair. He treats me like a clumsy boy and holds back my wages.
My master is just as tight with the purse strings. God give us strength.
Nota scribaeDictated at the fish stall. His hands were blue with cold.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You broke a perfectly good gaff, lad. The axe stays in my corner until the debt is paid.