guard at the Klasterska gate, of Kuttenberg
“I stand watch at the gate taking tolls from carters, though I marched in the mud of ninety-nine and know exactly how little a guardsman's life is worth.”
Things Otto had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Terce
I am looking right at Leonard and Albrecht. You two have a certain heavy thing from the borders that could solve all our miseries, and you just sit on it like frightened hens. Bring it out and let us find a buyer.
Nota scribaeThe man stood uncomfortably close to me and spat when he said the word hens.
the feast of St Mark, at Sext
Hugh is a coward. We have something perfectly good sitting right under our boots that could buy us hot pork and ale for a year, but he is too afraid of the rope to touch it. I will not wait forever to get my half.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
That clerk Roger sitting in his Italian Court decrees we buy our own lamp oil now. If the sergeant sees a dark lantern, he fines us! I had to pawn my best cloak just to afford the oil. A royal decree from a royal arse.
I would like to wait for Roger in an alley with a stout stick.
My lantern is barely smoking. It is a bloody disgrace.
Nota scribaeI warned him not to insult the town council's clerks, but he would not listen.
the third Wednesday of Lent, at None
Julian and Baldwin are shouting again about how Michael died in that muddy ravine in ninety-nine. I was there. They are both arses. Dead is dead, and yelling will not pay the tavern slate.
Candlemas, at Vespers
My feet are frozen to the cobbles and these farmer arses take half an hour to find a penny for the toll. And now old Svatava is in the ground, her whoreson heir wants coin before he will pour a drop. Bloody hell.
She was a good woman, Otto. Keep your voice down about her kin.
My throat is as dry as yours. We will find a way.
Nota scribaeDictated while the man tapped his foot so fast the ink nearly spilt.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Not here, Otto. Christ almighty, you talk too fast and too loud.
Leonard is right. The roads are swarming with soldiers. It stays hidden.