beggar of the havirska steps, of Kuttenberg
“I am a man of discipline on these steps. Without rules, we are no better than beasts.”
Things Sleepy Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the week of Whitsun, at Terce
My boys Roger and Joerg mutter behind my back again. They want to wed some starving girls from the camps with nothing but rags on their backs. I forbid it. Martha stands with me. I will not have my family dragged deeper into the dirt just because two grown lads cannot master their sap.
Nota scribaeThe wife stood over him nodding the entire time he spoke.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Watched the fools down at the Kostelni shelters scurrying like rats this morning. Half of them owe Ursel for ale and pawn their friends' boots to appease her. We have nothing on the Havirska steps, but at least we have our dignity. Any man of mine who begs for a slate gets my staff across his shoulders.
It is easy to preach when you have sons fetching your crusts for you, Thomas.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at None
The wind is sharp today. I told the young ones to remember Oswald, who died of the winter fever before Lent. He drank too much, lost his discipline, and paid the price. Keep your cloaks tight and wait your turn for alms, or you will freeze just like he did.
God rest poor Oswald's soul. Up in heaven there'll be no frost to freeze his toes off.
Nota scribaeHe shouted this as if preaching a sermon to a congregation.
the feast of St Matthias, at Vespers
Sent the boys down the baker's alley at midday for stale crusts while I held the high stone. God's truth, the bread is dearer than last year, and the bakers are tight-fisted. But we gathered enough coppers for the evening. We do things properly here.
Could you spare a crust for a fellow man of the steps, Thomas? My belly is rumbling.
Wait your turn for alms like the rest of us, Fritz, or feel my stick.
Candlemas, at Sext
Squinty Godfrey mocked me for acting the lord in the dirt, got angry, and dropped his worn wooden rosary right in the filth. I snatched it up. I will not give it back. I saved the holy beads from a blasphemer who threw them to the pigs. He gets them back when he begs my pardon before everyone.
You bloody thief! I dropped them by mistake! Give them back or I'll brain you with a rock!
A public apology on the steps, Godfrey. Not a word less.
Nota scribaeHe took the rosary from his pouch to show me. It was indeed very muddy.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
We are grown men, father. You cannot rule us like children forever with that wooden stick.
Listen to your father, boy, or you'll starve with your beggar girl in a ditch.