guard at Ceska gate, of Kuttenberg
“I watch the gate and freeze my toes. I just want my coin and a quiet life.”
Things Ralph had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Ludwig is telling his tales at the tavern again, claiming I broke the line in the woods last autumn. Christ almighty, the man was halfway into the trees before I even wiped my nose. I held as long as I could after Jarda fell.
Nota scribaeHe wiped his nose on his sleeve three times while dictating this.
the feast of Saint John before the Latin Gate, at None
The captain had us shifting heavy carts from the mud today. I took the brunt of the weight on Tuma's side. His back is no good since that winter fall, but there is no need for the captain to know.
I had the grip fine, lad, but I thank you.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Still no coin from the bailiff. The ale-wife says she will cut our credit by Saint John's day if we do not settle. I am rationing watered ale and freezing at the archway. A man cannot live on the King's gratitude alone.
My sister Lidka will send me silver from Prague soon, and I will buy you a cup.
We will all be drinking rain water by summer.
Nota scribaeThe ink froze in the pot while waiting for him to finish.
the Monday after Saint Gregory, at Compline
Franz says he saw Jarda's ghost near the ditch where he bled out. I told him it was just mist. But my hand cramps whenever I think of the letter I scratched to his mother. I lied about how he died, and the shame of it sits heavy.
Mist does not groan, Ralph. He wants his copper pennies back.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Terce
A turnip farmer tried to bring a rotting cart through the Ceska Gate without paying the toll. Argued with me for an hour in the freezing wind. I sent him back down the road. My boots are stiff as boards.
Should have kept the turnips. We have nothing else to eat.
Nota scribaeThe turnip farmer disputes this account but is not paying me to write.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You ran like a frightened child, Ralph. We all saw it.
You were staring at my back because you were already running.