manager of the polner estate, of Kuttenberg
“I hold the purse strings for this whole house while the masters are in Prague. Without my ledgers, these fools would starve or steal us blind.”
Things Emma Apollonia had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Ascension, at None
My gut burns like the fires of hell. The squabbling in this house has brought on terrible cramps. If any stranger comes to the gate with five chamomile flowers, I will pay a few groschen for the trouble. I refuse to step out into the street myself.
Nota scribaeDictated from her bed. She pointed a finger at the door the entire time.
the second week after Easter, at Vespers
As soon as my stomach settles, I am going to audit the pantry. Joan is hoarding supplies down there, I know it. The masters will not return from Prague to a bankrupt estate just because the kitchen maid fancies herself the Queen of Bohemia.
I save what we need so we don't starve when the soldiers take the grain carts. Keep your nose in your ledgers.
the Friday after Easter, at Prime
That lying ale-wife Vendula spilled a jug on my fine woollen cloak and then had the gall to bar the whole household! She demands I drop to my knees and apologize. Bloody hell to that. Her beer tastes like river water anyway.
You bumped the table yourself! Nobody from the Polner house gets a single drop until you are on your knees.
Christ almighty, Emma, just say you are sorry. We are dying of thirst after the yard work.
Nota scribaeThe word she used for the tavern keeper was not written down.
the third Wednesday in Lent, at Sext
Thomas the hired hand is a complete fool. He lent his expensive iron shears to Juliana and his wood-axe to Joan. I warned him he would never see them again, and I was right. It is a wonder the man remembers to breathe.
I merely misplaced the shears in the tall grass. They will turn up before the harvest.
They were good shears, too. Sakra.
Candlemas, at Terce
The steward rode off for Prague this morning and locked the main tool chest behind him. Now I am the only thing keeping this house from falling into ruin. Alice is too flighty to work, and Grete just weeps over her missing father. God give me patience.
He fled into the woods when the Cumans came. Tuma is still alive, I know he is. I just need him to know I am safe.
The man is dead, Grete. Stop crying and wash the bowls.
Nota scribaeDictated in the main hall. She spoke very loudly and fast.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you would just go down to the tavern and say sorry to Vendula, you could fetch your own herbs and we could all have a drink again.
I will rot in the ground before I apologize to that watering shrew.