maidservant at Hradecka, of Kuttenberg
“I haul water and light the hearths at Hradecka, and the fire is the only warm thing in my life. I would like to be paid my wages before I freeze to death in my own bed.”
Things Cecily had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Ascension, at Vespers
Anna spent the whole morning fretting over her vow to walk to Sedletz, so I had to sweep all the ashes myself. Then Ella Stein walked past looking like the Queen of Bohemia and did not lift a finger to help. It is pathetic how she puts on airs when we are all just trying to survive the spring.
Nota scribaeDictated while the woman wrung out a wet rag. She sniffed loudly throughout.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
It rained all night and the water dripped straight onto my pallet again. Margaret still refuses to mend the broken roof until Hugh and I pay our rent arrears. She says she cannot buy timber without coin. I hope her bad leg rots off completely.
Calm yourself, lass. Cursing her will not put a new beam over our heads.
Pay what you owe for the winter and you will get your timber, you ungrateful wretch.
the Monday before Palm Sunday, at None
Hugh's back is aching worse than ever from the heavy lifting in the yard. I do not know how much longer a body can take this hard use before it just breaks. I am glad he let me keep his spare cloak, else I would be dead of a fever by now in that cursed damp room.
I will say a prayer for his back when I go to the chapel. The Lord watches over our burdens.
the Feast of St Gregory, at Sext
Still not a single groschen from Kunigunde. She says the silver is delayed by Cuman raiders on the country roads. I do not care about Oldrich's estates or the King's troubles, I just want coin to buy boots before mine wear right through to the mud.
Hold your tongue and do your work. Fritz Stein and the guards must be paid first to keep us safe from the slaughter.
The housekeeper speaks truth. A swept floor will not stop a Hungarian arrow.
Nota scribaeThe maidservant spoke sharply and pulled her shawl tight against the wind.
Candlemas, at Vespers
We were told today there is no silver to pay us for the month. I lit the hearths in the main house and stayed by the flames until my hands stopped aching, dreading the walk back to my miserable lodging. It is a bitter start to the year.
Keep your chin up, Cecily. We will make do, same as we always have.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My husband is a marksman, not a muck-raker, and I do the mending. Keep to your ashes, girl.
At least my husband is not off chasing some grudge with Jezhek over a borrowed cart like a fool.