hired hand at the junk shop, of Kuttenberg
“I am just tired hands hauling scrap iron. Best leave me to my sweeping.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Terce
If anyone has seven eggs to spare, bring them to the yard when the mistress is looking the other way. I have a chipped ceramic pot to mend with egg paste for a passing trader before sunset. Do not tell Anna. Saint Jude preserve me, my hands are filthy.
Nota scribaeHe wiped his hands on his tunic three times while dictating this.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Vespers
A man does what he must when his kin is sick. The monks at Sedletz do not tend the dying for free. I hauled three salvaged cart-wheels today and every joint in my back is screaming, but it puts a crust of bread in my belly.
the eve of Palm Sunday, at None
Elizabeth has not stopped whining about her confiscated bone comb since Prime. I would give a week's wages for her to shut her mouth and just do the washing. My ears are ringing worse than when old Geoffrey used to shout at us.
It was a good comb! You would complain too if your only nice thing was taken, you old mule.
Nota scribaeDictated with his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Prime
There are more soldiers on the roads demanding tolls. An ageing hand with stiff knees cannot just walk away to find a better master in these times. The younger John is shaking like a leaf, terrified Wenceslas will send him to the earthworks with a pike.
Christ almighty, Thomas, it is no joke! The clerk Wenceslas has his eye on me, I know it.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
Two winters now since old Geoffrey died of the fever. He was a tight-fisted man, but he knew the value of rusted tools. Now I take orders from Anna, who used to scrub his floors. It is backbreaking work for an older man.
Geoffrey left me the lease, Thomas. If you do not like taking my orders, the gate is open. But I feed you.
Nota scribaeHe spoke quietly, avoiding eye contact with me entirely.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Why all the secrecy over a few eggs? You are acting stranger than Adleta before she took sick.
I am counting the ledger today, Thomas. Mending pots or not, do not think I am blind to what goes on in my yard.