barmaid at king solomon, of Kuttenberg
“I pour the ale, wipe the tables, and make sure you don't kill each other.”
Things Elizabeth had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Adam was making eyes at the younger maids again. Foolish old goat. I told him to act his age and take his ale outside. God's nails, my feet ache today. I just want to sit by my bed and look at my old wooden box in peace.
Nota scribaeShe let out a very long sigh before speaking the last sentence.
the feast of Saints Philip and James, at Prime
Thomas was struggling with a sack of salt this morning. I gave him the thickest cut of roasted pork for his dinner. His sister Johanka makes him that willow-bark tea, but good meat puts strength in a man's bones when he's hiding a hurt.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
The innkeeper is still on Joseph's back about the Kolin road. Three winters since poor Peshek died, and they still circle each other like angry dogs in the yard. I wish they would just step into the mud, trade punches, and be done with it.
A boy is dead because of his pride. A few punches won't bring Peshek back, Elizabeth.
I was fetching a lever for the axle! The vagabonds came from nowhere. Christ almighty, let it rest.
Nota scribaeDictated while wiping the same table for a suspiciously long time.
the fourth Wednesday of Lent, at None
Prices are up again and the soldiers drink like the world is ending. Had to break up a scuffle between two miners over a spilled cup. I wung out my rag in one's face. If they want to bleed, they can go join the King's levies.
Good on you. We can't afford broken benches with the wood costing what it does.
Candlemas, at Compline
Sarah told me Adam was talking about the old days before the war. It sent a cold shiver right up my back. I told her to mind her taps and ignore his nonsense. A respectable woman doesn't dwell on foolish letters and old mistakes.
We all have memories we cherish, Elizabeth. There is no shame in a bit of history between friends.
Drink your ale, you old goat, and keep your history to yourself.
Nota scribaeThe woman sighed heavily and twisted her apron in her hands the entire time.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
He means no harm, Elizabeth. You are always so hard on him.
Someone has to be, child, or he'd talk the copper right out of your purse.