Ludwig

the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers

The ale-wife says she will cut our slate on Saint John's day if we do not settle. The bailiff has not paid us since Easter. These boys talk of leaving for the mines. I just rub my eyes and sigh.

• 
  Hannes

  I will dig silver before I starve here, old man.

• 
  Wenceslas

  If you had not lost the spare halberd, we could have pawned it.

the second day of May, at Prime

Ralph is boasting about his footwork again. Christ almighty, boy. If you had not tossed your shield into the brush to run faster, maybe Leonard would have made it out of those trees. Keep your mouth shut.

• 
  Ralph

  I tripped, Ludwig! And I was running to get help, not fleeing. You were right behind me anyway!

Nota scribaeThe watchman was rubbing his temples throughout the dictation.

the Tuesday after Easter, at Sext

No coin from the bailiff this week. Just empty words from the council. We check the turnips, collect the tolls, and our own bellies rumble. At least the sun is warming the archway a little.

• 
  Frantishek

  A bloody disgrace. How are we to buy bread?

the feast of Saint Gertrude, at None

Wenceslas has the gall to say I should have held the line tighter in the dark. You wandered off into the black, you fool. Martin stood his ground and bled from the neck for it while the rest of you panicked.

• 
  Wenceslas

  I was flanking them! If you had held the center, Martin would be drinking with us now.

• 
  Tuma

  Let Martin rest, both of you. It is done.

Nota scribaeHe asked for a jug of ale before continuing, but none was provided.

Candlemas, at Prime

The wind through the Ceska gate is biting enough to snap a halberd in two. We are freezing our toes off checking passes while the fine burghers sleep warm. Jarda owes me ten groschen, God rest his soul.

• 
  Vashek

  Jarda owed me fifteen, Ludwig. Get in line behind his ghost.