hired hand for merchants, of Kuttenberg
“I carry heavy crates all day for a few pennies and worry myself sick over my mother. I just want to send word north that I am alive.”
Things William had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before St Urban, at Vespers
John Weaver brushed me off again today. I only asked if a single carter was heading north towards my old parish. He says the roads are full of soldiers and no merchant goes that way. Christ almighty, how hard is it to just ask the drivers? My mother Elizabeth is waiting.
Nota scribaeHe was wringing his hands so fiercely I thought he would take the skin off.
the feast of St Philip and St James, at Sext
Sat at the alehouse with Anne Tanner. She is looking for word from her sister Adleta just as I look for word from the north. The other girls, Mary and Alice, chatter about soldiers and fathers, but Anne knows what it is to wait. We drank watered ale and watched the road.
Ay, William. The road brings us nothing but dust and more hungry mouths.
If you had a father who locked away every penny, you'd chatter too, William.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Hauled thirty crates of cloth from the wagons into the cellar before the sun was fully up. My back aches, but I never dropped a single one. Let them say what they will, my leather strap fits my shoulders perfectly and I earn every penny of my keep.
You lift like an ox, William. Jacob wishes we worked half as hard at the forge.
Nota scribaeDictated in the storehouse while adjusting a worn leather harness.
the Monday after St Gregory, at None
The bread is dearer again. A heel of loaf and weak ale takes nearly all I make. I think of the fires in my parish, the Hungarian soldiers, the night I ran. I should have pulled my mother from the house. If I can just get a letter to her before St John's day, she will know I am coming.
Save your pennies, William. Even if someone could write it, the carters charge double to go near the fighting.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Begged John Weaver to write my letter today. He knows his letters, he directs the carts. It is a small mercy, just to write 'I am alive' to Elizabeth. He looked right through me. I swear, a man with education has no heart for a simple man's grief.
I have the merchants' ledgers to keep, William. I cannot conjure a northbound cart out of thin air.
Leave the clerk be, lad. Come have a drink and rest your back.
Nota scribaeThe man was nearly in tears, though he tried to hide it by rubbing his calluses.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I told you, William. No cart is going into the fires. Accept she is gone and leave me in peace to do the tally.
She is not gone! She is waiting for me to send for her.