guard at the Kourim gate, of Kuttenberg
“I stand the morning watch and keep an eye on the carts. I do my duty in the sun where there are no devils.”
Things Christopher had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at Terce
Wilhelm is eating dry crusts again to save pennies for his sister Mary. A man should eat while he has teeth. You cannot take groschen into the grave, and there are enough dead men out there who would gladly trade places for a bowl of sour beer and some bread.
the feast of St Stanislaus, at None
Paul is staring at me across the guardroom table again. He knows as well as I do that Andrew ran before the fighting even started back in the woods at Maleshov. If Andrew had held his ground on the flank, the line would have held. The devils took them, not me.
You broke the formation, you twitchy coward. Nicholas died because you jumped at a shadow.
I was not the one running blindly in the dark. Keep my name out of your mouth.
Nota scribaeThe boy rubbed his hands raw while he spoke.
the Thursday after Easter, at Prime
They say the king's brother has more mercenaries marching on the roads. I can see dust rising a long way off from the wall, as I have the best eyes of anyone in the garrison. So long as Captain James does not make us march out into the trees at dusk, I care not.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Sext
I wish Robert would stop shouting about his stolen tin pitcher and Erhard would forget that lucky bone die he lost. The noise sets my teeth on edge and makes me jump. We have an empty bunk sitting right there to remind us of worse things than a lost cup.
It was my good pitcher and someone took it. Stop whining about my shouting.
Nota scribaeDictated at the alehouse.
the day after Candlemas, at Prime
The wind was howling through the gatehouse all night. I pulled my thin blanket over my ears but I swear I could hear young Hugh crying out from the trees. I will never take a night watch. Let the devils have the dark.
It was just the wind, lad. Drink some beer and try to sleep.
Nota scribaeHe stuttered over the dead boy's name.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep your pity, Christopher. My sister will have a proper marriage and I will be fine.