miner at the rock face, of Kuttenberg
“I swing a pick in the North houses. It is miserable work, sakra, but it pays for the ale.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The eve of the Ascension, at Sext
I saw Hungarian soldiers on the road today, stealing whatever they could carry. But the real danger is in the shafts. Reginald is watching me from the shadows. I am not afraid of him, sakra, I am just ignoring him like a man should!
Nota scribaeHe slurred his words heavily and refused to let me strike out his boasting.
The feast of St Mark, at None
Poor Geoffrey was coughing up black blood again in the cellar. He will be drinking with the angels soon enough, where the beer is better. Katchka waters down her ale so much these days a man could wash his muddy feet in it.
Pay your lodging groschen or sleep in the muck, you whoreson drunkard!
Geoffrey looks like a corpse already. God rest him when the time comes.
The Tuesday after Easter, at Prime
Maresh checked the gear at the gate today. I had to hide the tool I borrowed from Reginald under my tunic. If I try to hand it back now, the hulking brute will murder me. Sakra, I wish Walter would give me my own spare back.
If you saved your wages instead of drinking them, you could buy your own iron from the smith.
Quiet, Wilhelm, you old fool. Some of us still have blood in our veins.
Nota scribaeHe spoke in a hushed voice, rocking back on his heels and looking over his shoulder.
The second Wednesday of Lent, at Compline
We were at the alehouse, and Reginald was weeping over his brother who died of the bloody flux in Prague. I only said he died like an old woman in a cot instead of taking a sword! A harmless jest, sakra.
Say that again when you are sober, you little worm, and I will break your neck with my bare hands.
You always talk too much when you drink, Thomas. You should sleep it off.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Walter needed a tool, so I lent him my spare like a good Christian. But sakra, a man still has to work his shift, so I borrowed one from Reginald the Hog to make up for it. Just for a day or two.
I will give it back when the shaft is clear and I am finished with it. Stop your whining.
Just see that you do, sakra. That iron cost me a month's sweat.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of sour ale and swayed on his feet while he spoke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I am watching you because you still have my iron, thief. I am going to crack your skull.
Just give it back and run, Thomas. I will not pay Julian for your shroud.