hired hand at the timber yard, of Kuttenberg
“I haul the heaviest logs while the other lazy bastards scratch their arses. If a man works this hard, he deserves a proper drink at the end of the day.”
Things Roger had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The eve of St Mark, at Vespers
Master Andrew counted the tallies twice today, staring at me like a hungry dog looks at a bone. Kurva, I swear my hands were shaking so badly I dropped a plank. I just need a bit more time to make things right before the feast. Bloody hell, my throat is dry.
Nota scribaeThe man kept looking over his shoulder toward the yard while speaking.
The Tuesday after Easter, at None
The stranger came back to the Hole in the Wall walking on his own two feet. Christ almighty, he walked right through the graveyard and didn't get a single scratch. I had to give him Stinky William's name just to get him away from me. I reckon Jacob is going to gut me.
You sent him to the Leflirska slum, you spineless whoreson? I will wrap my crutch around your thick head.
The fourth day of Lent, at Compline
Ernest Weaver came sniffing round the alehouse begging for a magician to cure some curse on his belly. I sent the fool's hired man to the graveyard at St James's. Jacob will empty his purse in the dark, and my cut will finally settle my debt at the yard. Easy silver.
My stomach is in torment, Roger, this is no laughing matter. Did the man have the cure?
We are waiting by the graves, lad. He better have heavy pockets.
Nota scribaeHe asked me to write this quietly.
The second week of Lent, at Sext
They say there are Cumans on the roads burning everything, but I would like to see them haul a wet oak log uphill before they complain about a hard life. Bread is dearer again. A man has to take a penny here and there just to keep the ale flowing and the cold out.
Who is taking a penny here and there, Roger? Watch your mouth.
Nota scribaeHe was entirely drunk when he dictated this.
Candlemas, at Prime
Woke up with my back snapping in two and the frost biting my toes in this cursed shed. If Master Andrew thinks I am moving the big stacks before the sun clears the wall, he can kiss my arse. Going to the Hole in the Wall tonight, put it on the tally.
Get your arse out of the straw, the carpenters are waiting.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you spent less time shivering and more time hauling, we would not have a shortfall, Roger.