guard at the armoury, of Kuttenberg
“I walk the Horse Market from prime to compline, and try to keep these fools from each other's throats. God knows why I still do it, when my knees scream with every step.”
Things Leonard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at None
The bailiff was down at the armoury today, asking about the muster. I told him every man has his kit ready. I lied, of course. Half the town's iron caps are sitting in Frantishek's strongbox. If the King's men come, we'll be fighting them with broom handles and bad language. Saint Barbara preserve us.
Nota scribaeThe bailiff himself dictated the previous entry in this book. I have decided not to mention this to Leonard.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
My legs are useless today. Swollen like sausages. It's the Lord punishing me, I know it. I swore to walk barefoot to Sedletz when I had the sweating sickness, and I never did. Now I can barely walk in boots. A beeswax candle at Saint James's isn't enough to buy off a broken vow.
My sister Amice in Nymburk had terrible swelling in her joints. She wrapped them in cabbage leaves steeped in vinegar. I could write to her and ask for the exact measure.
Cabbage won't cure a broken vow to the Lord, Eberhard. And if you mention Amice again, I'll wrap your head in vinegar.
the third day of May, at Prime
John Polner was at the tavern again last night, drinking away the silver he should be spending on Jan's gear. I told him he's a fool. If the boy gets caught without his padded jack, the magistrates will shut the forge down. But the stubborn ass won't listen. I'd arrest him if I didn't need him to sharpen my halberd.
Mind your own business, guard. The boy's jack is safe with Frantishek. I'll buy it back when the time comes. A man needs a drink to wash the soot from his throat.
It's not safe! Frantishek keeps it locked away, and I'm the one who'll be put in the pillory if I don't have it for the muster. Master, please!
Nota scribaeHe smelled strongly of ale himself while dictating this.
the second week of Easter, at Sext
There are more soldiers on the road from Prague today. Cumans, by the look of them. They don't come into Kuttenberg much, but you can see their fires at night. Bread is dearer than it was at Candlemas, and the stallholders are grumbling. I just keep my head down and walk my rounds. Nothing good comes of looking too closely at soldiers.
Soldiers on the road? God have mercy. I must send a letter to Amice. Nymburk is right on their path, they'll steal everything she has.
Lent, the Wednesday after St Matthias, at Terce
Tuma came complaining to me again about young Green pawning his cap. I told him to let it rest. The boy sleeps under his counter and shivers all night. What's a pawned cap next to freezing to death? The watch has bigger troubles. If Tuma wants someone arrested, he can join the guard and stand here in the cold himself.
Thank you, Leonard. I didn't want to pawn it, but I needed food. I'll get it back, I promise.
Nota scribaeThe man groaned twice while standing up from the stool.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I swear to you, I'll get my cap back before the muster. I just need to sell a few more yards of linen. Or maybe my mother could send me a groschen or two.
Your mother is in Caslav, lad. Unless she's sending it by pigeon, you'd better start selling that linen faster.