guard at the Ceska gate, of Kuttenberg
“I check the carts at the gate and drink my wine in peace. If you want a man to whine about the cold, look elsewhere.”
Things Tuma had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The council still holds our wages. Not a single groschen since Easter. Ralph helped me with the heavy barrels off a merchant cart today. Good lad. I bought my sour wine on credit again, though the widow gave me a foul look. My bones ache like iron in this damp.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was paused twice so the guard could stretch his back against the wall.
the feast of St Mark, at Terce
Franz is weeping like a child over his bone die. I told him I have it and will return it soon. I found it right where he dropped it by the stables. A piece of bone is just bone, sakra. The boy believes too much in luck.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
The men in the mess will not stop their bloody bickering. Vashek and Wenceslas fought over a brass lamp today, and Frantishek stole a dagger. Have they forgotten how Jarda bled out in the ditch? Martin died trying to rally us, and they squabble like hens.
You lay shivering in the mud while Leonard held the rear, Tuma. Do not preach to us about bravery.
the feast of St Gregory, at Sext
This cursed morning frost settles right into my spine. I stood at the gate shifting from foot to foot for eight hours. At least the turnip carts gave me something to look at. Christ almighty, I need a warm cup of wine to thaw my blood.
We all freeze at the gate, old man. Have your drink and be quiet about it.
Nota scribaeHe smelled strongly of sour wine and shifted his weight the entire time he spoke.
the Monday after Candlemas, at Compline
I am a man who endures without whimpering, but the cold today was a trial. I may have pawned a certain trinket at the ale-wife's house just to warm my belly. The Lord understands necessity, even if a superstitious fool would not.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Happy to do the lifting, Tuma. You would do the same for me.
At least you get credit at the alehouse. My cup is entirely empty until the bailiff pays us.