merchant of cabbages and onions, of Kuttenberg
“I sell cabbages by the Town Hall steps, and I know my own mind better than my pig-headed brother.”
Things Anna Schwarz had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Heinz shouted across the whole square today that my suitor lacks prospects and would ruin our name. By Saint Wenceslas, I will marry who I please! He is a pig-headed fool who thinks because he works wood he can carve my life for me.
Nota scribaeDictated at the top of her voice. Half the square had already heard it.
the second day of Easter week, at Sext
God does not take IOUs! I told Margery Porter she promised a walk to Sedletz for Saint Agnes, and Ottilie swore one for Saint Blaise. Now the spring is here and neither has gone. It is a mortal sin, sitting on your arse when you owe the saints.
Mind your own cabbages, Anna. My knees are bad and the roads are full of soldiers.
Saint Agnes will not care about your knees when you are in purgatory.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at None
A German miner tried to walk off with a basket of onions and pay me at the end of the month. I grabbed him by his tunic and told him no coin, no greens. The town is bled dry by these Hungarians and I cannot eat promises.
Nota scribaeThe woman shouted this so loudly my ears are still ringing.
the Tuesday after Saint Gregory, at Prime
Alice Gold is being a terrible shrew to poor Adela just because the girl wants to wed Peshek the hired hand. A hired hand is better than an empty bed, I say. At least Peshek is handsome enough to look at when the winter is long.
He has a taste for dice and no prospects! I would rather lock her in the cellar.
You are locking her out of her own life, Alice.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
If I must listen to Matilda Brown whine about her sister Mary for one more day, I will throw myself down the silver mines. We all have troubles. I am freezing my feet on these stones and she does nothing but beg for messengers to ride past Trosky.
Mary is all the family I have left! You have no heart, Anna.
I share your headache, Anna. Let us have some cider later and forget them all.
Nota scribaeDictated beside the vegetable baskets. The cold was bitter.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You will do as I say, Anna. The man is a beggar and I am the head of this house.
Pay him no mind, Anna. Families ought to mind their own business.