guard at the Ruthardka gate, of Kuttenberg
“I just stand my watch and try to keep my head down. Too many men did not come back from the winter roads and the rest squabble like hens.”
Things Richard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at None
Mistress Alice walked past the gate today and gave me a look that chilled my blood. I only closed my eyes for a moment against the sun. If she sacks me I will be sleeping in the dirt and Johannes will keep my good boots.
Nota scribaeDictated hurriedly while peering over his shoulder.
the second day of May, at Vespers
Johannes was prowling around the yard again asking for his penny. How are we supposed to pay rent on that cursed shed when the Mistress has not handed out a groschen since Epiphany. We are eating cabbage water and giving up our knives just to sleep out of the rain.
the Wednesday after Easter, at Prime
I cannot sleep for the weight in my coat. I need some good Christian soul to go down to the church by the river and say a prayer for a dead mercenary. I am confined to the gate and cannot go myself. The man died unshriven in the snow and his ghost will not let me rest.
Why do you care about a dead soldier. Save your prayers for poor Veit.
Nota scribaeThe man was pale and kept crossing himself.
the feast of St Gregory, at Terce
Roger will not stop hounding me in the shed. He says he stood his ground on the road and deserves half of what was found in the mud. I say a man who hides in a ditch while arrows fly earns nothing but mud on his breeches.
the week after Candlemas, at Compline
It was a slaughter. The Hungarians fell on us near Maleshov before we even saw them in the snow. Men threw down their shields and ran. Poor Veit took an arrow and died right there in the road. God rest his soul for he is the only one of us going to Heaven.
If the rest of you had held the line the lad might have lived. You broke ranks first.
I ran when the line was already broken. God knows the truth of it.
Nota scribaeHe drank three cups of ale before speaking a word.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you slept any heavier the Cumans could march right into the yard and you would only ask them for a blanket.
At least you have boots to lose. Johannes took my jack yesterday.