maid in the armourer's house, of Kuttenberg
“I do my best to keep the hearth swept and the buckets full so my mother can rest.”
Things Else Schönpetr had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Ascension, at Vespers
I saw Kunigunde Torwart weeping at her window again today. Her Karl was sent to Prague, and her heart is broken. It is a terrible, beautiful sorrow. I wonder if anyone will ever weep for me like that, though I should not have such vain thoughts.
Nota scribaeShe wrung her apron the entire time she spoke.
the feast of St Mark, at None
The yard was so muddy today. I sifted through all the sweepings near the woodpile, just to make sure we threw nothing away. Mother asked why I was crying, and I said it was only the smoke from the hearth. May God forgive my deception.
You work too hard, child. Leave the heavy lifting to the others.
Tears in the woodpile mean Adelheid's ghost is near. Mark my words!
Oh Betty, please do not say such things! I crossed myself just hearing it.
Good Friday, at Prime
I fetched three heavy buckets from the well before the sun rose so mother would not try to lift them. Her poor hand aches so in this cold spring, though she smiles and hides it. Aunt Anna says the floors must be spotless for Easter.
The floors are getting there, but do not dawdle at the well.
You are a good daughter, Else. The Lord sees your quiet work.
Nota scribaeShe asked me if her apron looked presentable before dictating.
the feast of St Gregory, at Sext
Betty came running across the street shouting that Adelheid's ghost was moving the pots, and that cats bring bad luck. I was so frightened I reached for my chest to hold my... to pray. May the Saints protect us from restless souls and demons.
the Tuesday after Ash Wednesday, at Terce
The market is so crowded with Hungarian soldiers, and Aunt Anna says the King's brother is to blame for the price of flour. I bought a loaf, but it was dearer than last year. I kept my eyes to the ground the whole way back.
Stay close to the house, Else. The streets are no place for a decent girl nowadays.
Nota scribaeThe dictating took a very long time, as she spoke so softly I could barely hear her.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
He is gone, Else, and my life is nothing but cold hearths and ashes.
Less staring at windows and more scrubbing, girl. Romance will not fill the larder.