beggar on the church porch, of Kuttenberg
“I sit by the steps and wait for the good folk to drop a copper. Richard and I just need enough for a crust, that is all.”
Things Flea-bitten Beatrice had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at None
Heinz the guard came down the alley today. I hid my penny in my rags and just kept my head down. If he took it for a fine, Richard and I would not eat tonight.
Nota scribaeShe wrung her hands the entire time she spoke and looked over her shoulder.
the second week of May, at Prime
Master John threw out three hard crusts yesterday evening. I soaked them in a puddle so Richard could chew them. We are so grateful for the bread.
Do not loiter too close to the doors next time, or the master will have me chased off too.
the Friday after Easter, at Vespers
The priest walked past the porch and would not even look at me. Two groschen. Where am I to find two whole groschen for the tithe? If he reads my name on Sunday, the older ones will push us off the steps entirely.
The church takes from the empty bowl, Beatrice. We all know it.
Nota scribaeShe began to weep quietly, marking the page.
the Monday before Palm Sunday, at Terce
Margery told me of her kin out past Caslav again. It made me cry a little, thinking of having a brother to send word to. But I have Richard, and he is a good man, truly he is.
We do not need anyone else. Just watch the merchants for coppers.
the Wednesday after Candlemas, at Sext
Those rough Hungarian men came through the meat market shouting and pushing. I thought I would die of fright, but Anna shouted right back at them. I do not know what I would do if she were not here.
Let them try to touch us. I will bite their fingers off.
Nota scribaeDictated near the bakery. She flinched when a cart rolled past.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I told you to sit closer to me, girl. He will not try it when I am yelling.