hired hand, of The executioner's house
“Ay, I do the heavy lifting for Master Nicholas, day in and day out. It's honest work, though the sacks don't get any lighter.”
Things Kunz had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Ascension, at Compline
Christ almighty, my back is near broken. Master Nicholas had me moving grain into the cellar until past dark again. Sigismund's whoresons are sniffing around the roads, he says. I hauled thirty sacks on an empty belly. The bread costs more every bloody week, but my wage stays the same. At least the executioner's yard is quiet enough to sleep.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
The ale-wives were laughing again today. Reckon they think it's mighty funny a man looking at the dirt. I told them to mind their own bloody business. I lost my tin ring, the one Anna bought me on a feast day like this. If they find it, they won't even know it's worth nothing, but to me it's everything.
Nota scribaeThe man spent a long time staring at the floor of the room before speaking.
the Friday after Laetare Sunday, at Sext
Ay, my cord snapped on the storehouse steps. The ring is gone. I've scoured the mud from Nicholas's gate to my pallet three times over. I rub my chest and there's nothing there. Without it, I'm scared I won't remember Anna's face. Christ almighty, why did it have to break now?
You are paid to haul grain, Kunz, not to inspect the cobblestones. I need the wood stacked by Vespers.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed his chest constantly while dictating.
the feast of St Matthias, at None
Some folks cross themselves when I walk past, just because I sleep at the headsman's. Bloody fools. Heinz is a quiet sort, and the rent is cheap. I don't smell any worse than they do. Master Nicholas won't let me sleep in his clean sheds, so what choice does a man have? I take my pay and keep my head down.
Let them make the sign of the cross. They leave us in peace that way.
the Monday after Candlemas, at Terce
It's been four winters since Anna died of the chest fever. Fifteen years since we came to this silver town looking for better coin. Now I'm just hauling weight for other men until my bones give out. But I can still carry two sacks of rye when the young lads can only manage one. I reckon that's something.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If any honest man finds a ring on a broken leather cord between Nicholas's yard and the headsman's, bring it to me.