bartender at the tavern, of Kuttenberg
“I pour the ale, kurva, and I break up the fights. I went to the Moravian border two years ago and learned how cheap life is.”
Things Sarah Cook had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Compline
Christina sat tallying the accounts today with her hands folded like she is the Virgin herself. I gripped my wiping rag until my knuckles went white. If she looked me in the eye and admitted she sent Prokop to the creek, I might stop wanting to wring her neck. Kurva, she just sits there.
Nota scribaeShe spat on the floor after saying the other woman's name.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
The garrison boys came in thirsty and left stupid. Not one of them has been paid, so I spend half the day breaking up scuffles before they smash Innkeeper Havel's good benches. I pour without looking anymore. Better than looking at them.
Make sure they pay before they drink, Sarah. I will not take their battered helmets in trade.
We will throw them out together if they start breaking wood.
the Wednesday before Palm Sunday, at None
Betty Vejmola was out working her cabbage patch before we even hauled the first casks from the cellar. The woman has the strength of an ox. When the taproom gets rough, there is no one else I would rather stand back to back with.
The cabbages do not yell at me when I water them.
St Gregory's day, at Sext
William Grey is shouting in the kitchen again about some washerwoman's daughter. I told him to keep his noise down because my head aches from the smoke in the taproom. We get enough shouting from the drunks without the cook starting in on it too.
Adela is a beggar and I will not have her name spoken near my pots.
Nota scribaeDictated in the cellar. The cellar smells of sour beer.
the Friday after Candlemas, at Prime
It is a bitter frost. Else is shivering violently while she scrubs the mud from the floorboards. Betty bought her a padded jack for the muster, but I know she sold it. Poor frail thing. She probably gave it to the pawnbroker's widow.
Martha the widow gave me a fair price, and I needed the bread more than the padding.
Christ almighty, Else, you will freeze to the floorboards.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The man wandered off of his own accord, Sarah. You know this.
He was shaking with fever, kurva. You told him to fetch water.