maidservant at the lodging house, of Kuttenberg
“I boil roots and scrub mud for drunks. If you want meat, go back three winters.”
Things Elizabeth had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday after Ascension, at None
We had a dozen dirty miners from the hills tracking mud across the floor today. Bread is dearer than last year, and they eat like wolves. Mary scrubs the bowls without a word, but my hands are raw. I swear to Christ almighty I will close the shutters next time.
Nota scribaeShe spoke so fast she spat on the ledger.
the eve of St Philip and St James, at Compline
That lying sow Amice returned my good linen shift ruined with dark ale. When I asked for silver to wash it, she spat at me in the street. Now she hides in her carter's house with a new bairn. She is a thief and I want my groschen.
the second day of Easter week, at Sext
Anna's coin box is short again. She is blind if she cannot see it is John. He sleeps in that leaky shed out back and whines all day. I reckon he is drinking the takings. Let him cross me and I will dump boiling stew on his boots.
I never touched the box! Keep your bloody stew to yourself, I have enough misery in that shed.
Perhaps the mice got at it, Lizzie. Do not be too harsh on poor John. He is honest.
Nota scribaeDictated while chopping onions. My eyes are still watering.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Sarah is wringing her hands again over Father Matthew's letters about the mass arrears. I told her the dead are dead, and weeping will not buy us flour. We will be eating turnips and tough onions until the war ends if she gives our last pennies to the priest.
the Monday after Ash Wednesday, at Vespers
Adam has the right of it. Anna has not paid him since Epiphany, so he kept her best copper jug. If she wants us to bleed scrubbing mud and serving vagrants, she should find the coin. Mother Johanka never let the purse get this empty. God rest her soul.
I will pay him when the guests pay me. Tell him to return the jug before I call the bailiff.
I am holding the jug until I see my silver, Anna. A man must eat.
Nota scribaeShe slammed a wooden bowl on the table as she finished speaking.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It was stained when you gave it to me! Keep away from my house.
I know where you live, you whoreson thief. I will have my silver.