baker's wife, of Kuttenberg
“I'm the baker's wife, and I keep this house running. If it were left to my husband Andrew, we'd be giving bread away to every beggar in Kuttenberg and eating the ashes ourselves.”
Things Eva had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
My father-in-law Tobias came to the shop today. He smiled and talked of the weather, as if half my dowry were not still sitting in his purse these past years. Andrew gave him our best loaf. Next time he visits, I will see to it he gets the burned crusts from the back of the oven.
the Wednesday before Ascension, at None
Anna next door is a loudmouthed gossip. The frost heaved the earth in the yard and shifted the boundary stone by the wall. Now she tells everyone I moved it in the night to steal a handspan of dirt. As if I have time for digging when I have ledgers to keep. I will not speak to her until she begs my pardon.
The frost does not lift a heavy stone two paces to the left, Eva. Put it back.
Boundary stones cause nothing but grief. A good wall is better, if people would only return the tools they borrow to build them.
Nota scribaeDictated at the baker's door. The woman pointed her finger at my chest the whole time.
the second day of May, at Prime
The price of grain is an outrage. They say the soldiers on the roads are taking the carts before they even reach the Kuttenberg gates. I told the miller I will not pay a groschen more than last month, soldiers or no. He grumbled, but he took my coin. Someone has to hold the line.
You have a firm hand, Eva. Simon says the millers are taking advantage of the trouble.
the week after Easter, at Terce
The floor was scrubbed clean by dawn, the flour measured, and the fires lit. Then William Swift came tromping in with his muddy boots to buy a loaf. I made him wait outside. I do not care if he is a butcher, he will not ruin my morning's work. Andrew tried to apologize to him.
I just wanted some bread, Eva. No need to treat me like a beggar.
Wipe your boots next time.
Lent, at Sext
I found a rat in the flour store. Caught it with a heavy bucket and threw it in the alley. If the hired hands would sweep the corners properly, we wouldn't have this trouble. I docked their wages for the spoiled flour. They muttered, but they know I am right.
They work hard, Eva. Perhaps a penny docked would have been enough.
Nota scribaeShe demanded I write down exactly how much flour was spoiled.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Eva, please. He is my father. Let it rest for the holy days.
I will rest when the silver is in my strongbox, Andrew.