townsman's son learning ledgers, of Kuttenberg
“I am a man whose heart has been ripped from his chest. My parents care only for ledgers and what the street thinks.”
Things Joseph had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Terce
My father Simon has not stopped simmering about his shaping adze for three months. By Saint James, it is just a piece of iron! I am dying of a broken heart and he sits there glaring at Andrew's boundary wall over a tool. I cannot breathe in this suffocating house.
the feast of Saint Philip and Saint James, at Sext
Walked down to Havirska to buy meat from William Swift just to get out of the yard. William was swearing about his dead landlord Kubyenka again. At least William has real problems, unlike my mother who thinks a poor girl is the devil. God save me from this misery.
The roof still leaks and the old bastard is dead. But your mother is right, lad. A heavy purse keeps the rain off.
Nota scribaeThe boy paced the length of the room three times before finishing this thought, sighing heavily.
the second day of Easter week, at Vespers
They say the roads to Prague are full of soldiers and hungry men. Is she safe? I asked Sarah to pray for Constance at Mass. Sarah looked terrified, as she always does, but I hope she did it. No one in this town has ever suffered as I suffer.
I prayed for her, Master Joseph. But your mother heard me whispering and boxed my ears.
the third Sunday of Lent, at None
I argued with my mother again. I told her station means nothing, that true affection is worth more than all the groschen on Zidovska. She refused to yield an inch. She is a cold woman who has forgotten what it means to be young. By Saint James, I will not forgive this.
You will thank me when you are older and married to a girl who brings a heavy purse instead of shame.
I would rather starve in a ditch than marry for coin!
Nota scribaeHe waved his hands so violently he nearly knocked over my inkhorn.
the Monday after Candlemas, at Prime
My mother has ruined my life. She found out about Constance and packed her off to family in Prague. Just like that, severing my heart with a single stroke! Constance is a labourer's daughter with no dowry, it is true, but I love her. I am entirely heartbroken.
Keep your voice down, lad, we can hear you wailing through the wall.
Nota scribaeDictated in a rush, the words tumbling out before I could write them.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is my adze, boy, and you will understand the value of tools and reputation when you finally earn your own bread.