hewer at the deep works, of Kuttenberg
“I have swung a pick in the deep works for twenty years, and I can still outlast any of these loud-mouthed pups. Keep your head down, do your shift, and say your prayers.”
Things Prokop had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Vespers
I took the lower seam shift that the young lads refused. The black dust is thick enough to chew, and I spat blood this morning, but I outlasted them. Baldwin gave me a fair tally. A strict master keeps men from acting like animals.
Nota scribaeThe man kept clenching and unclenching his hands as he spoke.
the feast of St Florian, at Prime
I lit a candle at the altar for my brother Mikesh today. The foolish boy marched off to Prague last year for soldier's coin. I reckon he is dead in a ditch by now. I should have beaten the stupidity out of him when I had the chance.
Aye, the young never listen. I will drink a cup for him tonight, Prokop. My Hedvika always said he was a stubborn one.
the second day of Easter week, at Compline
The squabbling in this dormitory sickens me. Now Franz the Rat is weeping over a lost eating knife. Christ almighty, we used to look out for one another in the crew. Now I share a roof with liars, drunkards, and boys who cry over a penny blade.
It was a good knife, Prokop, and somebody stole it right out of my chest!
I told you I saw a mercenary slipping around the yard yesterday.
Nota scribaeHe muttered a prayer halfway through this dictation to calm his temper.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at None
I am hacking at the face with a blunt, ruined iron, losing my piece-rate by the hour. All because a certain whoreson hauler still holds my best hewing tool. If he tells me my eyesight is too poor to use it one more time, I will smash his nose.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Hugh asked to borrow my heavy pick, swearing he only needed it for a few hours. I lent it like a fool. A good iron costs a month's sweat in the deep works. I expect it back in my hands before the morning shift.
Do not worry your gray head, Prokop. I will return it when the seam is clear.
Nota scribaeDictated at the yard trough while washing rock dust from his face.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
We refused it because the air is foul down there, old man. You will die in the dark.
Better to die working than caught sleeping in the adit like a worthless pup.