apprentice at the forge, of Kuttenberg
“I just want to do a good job for Master Robert so he keeps me on. I try to strike the iron true and not be a burden.”
Things Richard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The willow bark tea is not doing what it used to. I drank two cups before dawn but hauling the sacks today was a trial. I pray Master Robert did not see me stumble by the trough. I must be quicker tomorrow.
Nota scribaeHe spoke so quietly I had to lean across the table to hear him.
the feast of St Mark, at None
John the guard was shouting again today, swearing by Saint George about his wages. He paces the yard like a caged bear and says he will go to Jan at the Italian Court. I stayed by the bellows so he would not see me shaking.
You would shake too if you were starving. A man cannot eat soot and promises.
Jan is a thief of men. I will pay you when the merchants pay me. Keep your voice down.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
I lit a candle for Master Robert's mother, Mary. She was the only one who ever gave me an extra crust when the day's work left me too sore to sit upright. God rest her kind soul. The forge has been a colder place these three winters without her.
She was a fine, pious woman. Knew her accounts, too.
Nota scribaeThe boy wiped his eyes with a blackened sleeve.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Terce
I ruined a good piece of iron today. My hand slipped when Master Robert called the strike. He yelled at me, and he had every right to. I am too clumsy. Trade is slow enough with the war without me wasting good metal. I will do better.
Grip the hammer tighter, boy. Iron does not shape itself, and I cannot afford your mistakes.
Yes, Master. I will grip it tighter.
Candlemas, before dawn
The frost gets into my bones before I even rise. Getting off the straw pallet takes a long time in the dark. But the charcoal needs fetching, and the fires must be hot before Master Robert wakes. I just have to keep my back straight and not complain.
Nota scribaeDictated while sweeping the church steps. The boy moves as if he were an old man.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You are pale as milk, lad. A blind man could see you dragging your leg.
I am well, I swear it. Just a bit of a chill from the rain.