Liber Vultuum
Liber Vultuum, volumen Kuttenbergensefol. 319r
Portrait of Wenceslas

Wenceslas

guard at the Ceska gate, of Kuttenberg

“I watch turnips roll into Kuttenberg and take pennies off slow men at the dice table. The town pays us in wind, so a man must make his own luck.”

Quid vis scribi?The scribe is at Vespers. Come back after, and bring him a candle.

Dicta

Things Wenceslas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.

the eve of Ascension, at None

Still no groschen from the bailiff since Easter. I threw dice with Tuma behind the gatehouse and won his good wool socks. If the town won't warm my feet, the bone dice will.

  • Tuma
    Tuma

    You bumped the board, Wenceslas. Give them back before the night watch.

  • Wenceslas
    Wenceslas

    A clumsy man blames the board. Keep your feet near the fire, lad.

Nota scribaeHe flipped a copper coin the whole time he spoke. It was very distracting.

the feast of St Stanislaus, at Vespers

I told Vashek again to hand over my brass oil lamp. He claims I owe him four groschen from a game, which is a filthy lie. I freeze every night because that whoreson thinks he can invent debts to cover his own thievery.

  • Vashek
    Vashek

    Admit you cheated on Saint Jude's day, you lying bastard, and you can have your precious lamp.

  • Wenceslas
    Wenceslas

    I played a fair hand. You just have the wits of a struck sheep.

the Thursday after Easter, at Prime

A cart of wet timber got stuck in the archway this morning. The merchant tried to shout at me, so I checked his cargo very slowly. I reckon I earned the penny he finally gave me to wave him through.

  • Hannes
    Hannes

    I saw that. You should have held out for two pennies, the mud was up to our ankles.

Nota scribaeThe bailiff's man noted this confession of taking tolls, but did nothing.

the feast of St Gregory, at Sext

Ludwig is telling tales at the alehouse again about Saint Martin's eve. He says I wandered off, but I was gathering dry kindling. If the old fool hadn't fallen asleep on his feet, Martin and Jarda might still be drinking with us.

  • Ludwig
    Ludwig

    You ran like a frightened hare before the first arrow even struck the wagons. We all know it.

  • Oswald
    Oswald

    Let it rest. Poor Jarda is dead in a ditch and my throat is dry.

Candlemas, at Terce

Cold enough to freeze the stones today. I stood my watch and went straight to the tavern. Poor Leonard vanished into the trees last autumn, but at least he doesn't have to suffer this wind. God rest him.

  • Frantishek
    Frantishek

    Amen. Though he owed me three pennies when he ran off.

Nota scribaeDictated with a cup of watered beer in his hand.

From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.