baker, of Kuttenberg
“I bake bread for the street and give honest weight. If you want a loaf, show me your silver.”
Things Anna had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
The Wednesday before Whitsun, at Prime
Rain again, and the water is pooling directly outside my door. Walter went to Prague and left us with gutters that leak like a sieve. If I get damp in my flour, I will send him the bill. I have no patience for landlords who ignore their own property.
The Friday after St Pancras, at Vespers
The bailiff is drawing up lists for the new town levy against the Hungarians. I saw Heinz drinking his wages away, waiting to march off and die in the mud. I will not let my brother suffer the same fate. I just need a little more time to gather the groschen.
A man has a right to a drink before he faces Cumans on the road, baker. Mind your own slate.
Nota scribaeShe wiped her hands on her apron repeatedly while she dictated this.
The Monday after St George, at Sext
A heavy morning. John dropped the long peel again while lifting the sacks. I snatched it up before it hit the floor and yelled at him to hurry the next batch of rye. We cannot fall behind on the carters' orders, and I will not abide clumsy work.
Ay, my thanks for the catch, Anna. The wood was slick with flour, is all.
The third day of Easter week, at Prime
I scorched a wheat loaf because I was busy tallying the slate. Left it on the sill. Tattered Else tried for it, but I chased her off the porch with my broom. I saw Flea-bitten Beatrice snatch it later. Better she gets it than the rats.
It was still warm. God bless you for the crust, mistress.
The second week of Lent, at None
I am not setting foot in the Tavern Svatych. Isabel knocked over a whole trough of resting dough, ruined the lot of it, and then had the gall to say I stole a silver penny. I demand a public apology and the cost of my flour paid in full.
You bumped into me first! And the penny was gone from the table right after you came for the morning bread.
Keep your lying mouth shut until you have the coin to pay for my ruined dough.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly. The woman was furious and threw a handful of flour onto the floor.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The man keeps his purse tighter than a clam. My wool is getting damp in the storehouse because of that same leaking roof.