maidservant at the tailor's house, of Kuttenberg
“I keep my head down and mind the washing tubs. The Lord sees fit to test me with cold water and loud men.”
Things Else had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Terce
I have lost the little wooden bird my brother Andreas carved for me before he marched away with the levy. I have searched the yard on my hands and knees in the dirt. If I do not find it, I fear I will forget his face.
Nota scribaeShe spent an hour searching the dust before she would speak her words.
the eve of Saint Mark, at None
I went to fetch water from the town well, but King Sigismund's soldiers were loitering there, staring like hungry wolves. I came back with an empty bucket. I shall not leave the tailor's yard again until the war is done.
And who is to wash my linens, child? The Holy Ghost? Fetch the water, God will shield you.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
Matilda is baking a tart for the priest's name day, hoping for a few pennies. She needs them for that broker Simon. I dropped a bowl of eggs in my fright when Father Frantishek shouted, but she swept it up before he saw.
Hush now, the eggs were small anyway. We must get my mother Margaret's silver cross back from that vulture, come what may.
Nota scribaeThe girl wept while speaking this.
the Thursday after Saint Valentine, at Prime
Holy Mary forgive me, I left Udo's good linen shirt in the hot lye too long and now it would scarcely fit a child. I said I was sorry, but he has locked my copper jug in the stables and says it is his now!
Candlemas, at Vespers
Since it is Candlemas and we should be charitable, I let Udo take my good copper jug to the alehouse. A half month's wages that cost me. I pray he does not drop it in the mud.
It is a fine jug, Else. I will bring it back when I am done drinking, never fear.
Nota scribaeDictated by the washing tubs. Her hands were raw.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
We will look again by the woodpile, Else. Do not despair.
Your brother was a fool to march off for the King. A wooden bird will not bring him back.
May the devil take your tongue, Udo.