guard at Kolin gate, of Kuttenberg
“I stand at the eastern gate taking pennies from carters and trying to ignore the shouting inside the guardhouse. I am just here to serve my time and collect my wages.”
Things James had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Friday before Whitsun, at Terce
Nicholas has grabbed my sleeve again about walking to Prague to find his sister Rosa. I am not walking a road swarming with Hungarians just to ease his mind. He needs to find another messenger and leave my sleeve alone.
Nota scribaeHe muttered a prayer to St Barbara before speaking.
the eve of the Ascension, at Vespers
Zdenyek is rattling his bone dice again. Mathes is glaring at Johannes from the corner. If I have to spend one more evening listening to them moan about slipped boots and old debts, I will throw myself off the wall.
You could try to win some of your groschen back instead of sighing like a widow.
Someone ought to beat Johannes for what happened. I just need a man willing to do it.
Nota scribaeDictated with much rolling of the eyes.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
A carter from the countryside tried to hide three groschen worth of silver in a sack of turnips. I took his coin and let him weep about the price of bread. It is too cold to stand here arguing over root crops.
Aye, they all weep when you find it. Good work catching him.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Sext
Jezhek had the gall to blame me again for Martin taking a halberd in the mud at Sedletz last autumn. By Saint Barbara, I was in the rear. I could not have reached the front line through that press of bodies even if I had tried. Men die in battle.
You failed to bring up the rear! You left him exposed in the mud. He was a good lad.
The line shattered. It was a retreat or we all would have died. Let it rest.
Nota scribaeThe guard tapped his fingers on his belt the whole time he spoke, looking very sour.
Candlemas, at None
My back aches from the stone floor and the pottage here tastes of smoke. Roger is shouting at Walter over a boot. I will not end up like Johannes, old and hated in this cramped room. I will find a better job by summer and leave this gate behind.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
She is a baker's maid, James, and she has no one else. Please, it is just to Prague.
Go yourself if you miss her so much. I am not getting my throat cut for a loaf of bread.