maidservant at rezidence polneru, of Kuttenberg
“I just spin wool and try not to be a bother. I pray the Lord keeps my father safe in the woods.”
Things Grete had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Vespers
I asked Joan again for my dowry linen. I only left it with her at Easter when they moved the chests. I even offered her a whole groschen for it. She just shouted at me. I spent a year spinning that cloth. I need it for when I marry.
Nota scribaeShe wept while saying this. I left the tears off the page.
the feast of St Pancras, at None
They say more soldiers are on the roads. I pray my father Tuma is safe. He ran into the deep woods when the Hungarians came. Joan says I am stupid to hope, but I know he is hiding in the charcoal camps. If anyone goes toward Maleshov, please tell him Grete is alive.
the second week of Easter, at Prime
Emma Apollonia is shouting about her stomach cramps again. She says Vendula at the tavern poisoned her with watered beer. I hid in the yard with Thomas so we would not have to listen. The lye is heavy today, but it is better than being inside when the shouting starts.
That cheating shrew owes me silver! And you should be spinning, not hiding in the yard.
I just wish she would make peace so I could buy a drink after a day's work.
Nota scribaeDictated in a whisper while glancing at the hall doors.
Maundy Thursday, at Sext
My hands are bleeding from the raw wool. We must finish the thread before the bells stop for Easter. Lady Juliana walked past and complained about the smell of the damp fleece. I looked at the floor until she left. I just want to lie down in the dark.
The smell is unbearable. One would think you could wash it better before bringing it inside.
I will help you bind your fingers tonight, Grete.
the feast of St Gregory, at Terce
We are moving the beds in the servants' quarters. It is so cold, the wind comes right through the walls. Alice and I have all the stale bread we saved, but the mice are getting bold. I gave my good linen to Joan to keep safe in her big chest.
At least we have each other to keep warm tonight.
Nota scribaeThe girl was shivering the entire time she spoke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is buried under the winter blankets, you foolish girl. Stop pestering me.
Do not cry, Grete. Maybe Thomas can help us move the blankets tomorrow.