Else

the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers

The rain came heavy today. I spent the morning dragging the heavy oak chests across the floorboards so the linens would not soak. Then Peshek's steward knocked for the rent, and my husband handed over the coin without a single word about the roof.

• 
  Gilbert

  Peshek is a powerful man in Prague, wife. We cannot cross him.

• 
  Else

  And so we drown in our own hall. God give me strength.

Nota scribaeShe glared at the ceiling the entire time she spoke.

the third day of Easter week, at None

That ungrateful whelp of a mason lost his temper again. John Clark says I hid the wooden carving of Saint Barbara. I told him the house is in chaos because the roof is rotting. I did not take his precious idol, it simply vanished.

• 
  John Clark

  It sat on the shelf until you started throwing things about. You resent everything of my mother's.

the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Prime

Found Joan weeping and praying for Elizabeth again instead of scrubbing the root vegetables. I told her the dead are with the Lord and need no tears, but the stew pot needs onions. I am the mistress here now.

• 
  Matilda

  Maids are all the same these days. A firm hand is what she needs.

Nota scribaeShe snapped her fingers at my inkwell to make me write faster.

the feast of St Matthias, at Sext

Paid good groschen to a clerk today for a letter to Prague. If my husband will not demand Peshek mend the thatch, I will do it myself. We pay rent for a house, not a sieve.

• 
  John

  Aye, Peshek owns half the street and ignores us all. Good luck to you.

Candlemas, at Terce

Three winters since I wed and came to this walled town for safety. The walls hold, but the wind comes right through the timbers. Lord have mercy, if I had known I would be fighting phantom wives and absentee landlords, I might have stayed put.

Nota scribaeDictated at the market stall. She bought a very small cabbage afterwards.