hired hand at the stables, of Kuttenberg
“I clean stalls and keep quiet, hoping God grants us our owed silver before the parish ruins me.”
Things Standa had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
The priest looked right at me after mass. If the master's silver does not come this week, my name will be read from the pulpit on Sunday. I cannot bear the shame of it. Lord have mercy on a poor debtor.
Nota scribaeDictated in a whisper. The man crossed himself three times before speaking.
the feast of St Pancras, at Terce
I saw young Hermann crying in the corner over the bailiff's levy list. The Hungarians are on the roads, and he fears for his life. I have added him to my prayers. The Lord shields those who ask.
I was not crying, Standa. I just had dust in my eye from the yard.
the Wednesday after Easter, at None
Anna still has not walked to Sedletz to fulfill her vow from the winter fever. God does not forget a broken promise. I told her the Lord will balance His ledgers, just as the parish balances mine.
My boots are full of holes, Standa. The Lord can wait until the roads are dry.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Hugh came limping into the yard today. His back is ruined from that cursed leaking roof at Margaret's lodging. I told him he could sleep in the hayloft with me, where it is warm and dry, but he is too proud.
I am not sleeping with the beasts, lad. I have my dignity.
At least the beasts do not charge a penny for the rain.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of horse manure.
the first Friday of Lent, at Sext
Still no silver from the master's estates, and they say the Cumans have blocked the roads. Everyone in the yard is shouting about coin. I prefer the horses. They just eat their hay and keep the peace.
If Jezhek hadn't stolen my cart, I could haul the silver myself.
The merchant's son says it will come soon enough.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Stop your weeping and ask Kunigunde where the hidden coin is!
I cannot make groschen out of stable dirt, Richard.
Anger is a mortal sin, Richard. We must just pray.