maidservant assigned to needlework, of Kuttenberg
“I am a townsman's wife waiting for better days, keeping my hands clean and my husband's pride intact.”
Things Ella Stein had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Terce
Cecily is complaining again about the damp in Margaret's lodging. If that shivering girl only knew what I saw inside Margaret's mattress when I fetched a cloth. The old woman weeps over her bad leg and pleads poverty, but she has silver enough. I pray Fritz and I never fall so low as to live under a leaking roof.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
I hear Jezhek is still in Prague settling his uncle's estate. The man borrowed our cart, insulted my husband, and walked away. There are those who say Easter is a time for forgiveness, but forgiveness requires an apology first. I will pass him in the square like a ghost when he returns until he admits his fault.
You speak the truth. A man who misuses a borrowed cart is no friend to the Steins.
He always paid me in full, but I grant he is careless with other men's wagons.
Nota scribaeShe folded her hands in her lap and spoke very slowly, making sure I wrote every word.
the Monday after St Gertrude, at None
Anna has deliberately handed me the most threadbare stockings to darn, just to keep my head bowed. She thinks she can humble me because she is Kunigunde's daughter. I am taking my time with the needle. If the hired hands must wait for patched tunics, that is Anna's doing, not mine.
Mend them or do not, but you are paid to work, not to sit by the window and admire your soft hands.
I do the work suited to a townsman's wife. My hands are my own affair.
the feast of St Matthias, at Vespers
There is shouting in the yard again over unpaid wages. Richard and the others grumble endlessly about Kunigunde's empty purse and the king's troubles. Fritz stands firm at the gate, doing his duty as a marksman should. We do not involve ourselves in the squabbles of common labourers. By the saints, the noise is tiresome.
It is easy to ignore the shouting when you sit by the hearth and rub tallow on your fingers.
Nota scribaeDictated from the solar. She would not come down to the yard to speak to me.
Candlemas, at Sext
Three winters now we have taken service at Hradecka. I have just finished repairing the guards' tunics so they might look presentable for the feast. It is a temporary indignity, this life among the diggers and grooms, but we keep our pride. I only pray the times improve before my best gown turns to rags.
Your temporary indignity is the rest of our lives. But thank you for the mending.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you know where the timber money is hidden, tell Hugh. He woke with a stiff neck again.