spinner of coarse wool, of Kuttenberg
“The dutiful daughter of Master Eberhard, robbed of her dowry and forced to spin in the cold.”
Things Christina Hartmann had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the second day of May, at Vespers
Tell Else that if she expects me to weave this coarse wool another day, she must find goose grease for my blisters. A daughter of Master Eberhard should not have hands like a common digger. Not that certain thieves in this house care for my suffering.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Let it be written that the bread is dearer again, all because of these soldiers on the road. My poor father would have hammered the King's troops a hundred fine breastplates by now, but his forge was sold off for pennies by those with no respect for his craft.
He left us a ledger of tavern debts, Christina. The anvil had to go, or we would be begging in the mud.
Tell Else that I do not listen to liars who soil a dead man's good name.
Nota scribaeShe tapped her foot the entire time I wrote.
the Tuesday after Saint Gregory, at Prime
I pray every night that Jacob the merchant is robbed bare on the Prague road. He took my birthright, the heavy silver cloak-clasp my father promised for my dowry, and paid less than half its worth. God sees all thieves, both those who travel and those who sleep nearby.
Please, mistress, do not curse the man. The Lord provides, and we will find a way.
the eve of Saint Matthias, at Terce
Tell Else the firewood is wet again. Tell Else the hearth is cold. Tell Else that if the head of this household had not sold our warmth to pay for her own blunders, we would not be freezing. I am speaking only to Else, let it be written.
I can hear you perfectly well. If you want a fire, fetch dry wood yourself.
Nota scribaeHer sister was sitting but two feet away during the dictation.
the feast of Saint Blase, at Sext
A betrayal! The silver clasp meant for my dowry is gone, sold to a passing merchant for twenty miserable groschen. Sold by my own blood! I will not speak another word to her as long as I draw breath. Let the whole of Kuttenberg know of this theft.
It was either the clasp or the King's taxmen taking the house. You cannot marry if you have no roof.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly enough to wake the dead.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I will find some grease, mistress. But the thread must be spun to pay the baker.