farmer at the Lorec vineyard, of Lorec
“I work the southern terraces from dawn till dusk, doing the digging of two men with half a shovel. By the Virgin, I just want my good hoe back.”
Things Robert had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Vespers
My palms are bleeding from this splintering wooden shovel, but I still turned more earth than anyone else on the southern slope today. A ruined harvest helps no one, so I keep digging. I will not let a broken tool beat me.
Nota scribaeHe insisted on showing me his hands. They were indeed in a pitiful state.
the second day of May, at Terce
The watchmen are circling each other like stray dogs in the yard. Havel and Geoffrey are barking at Roger again about Lambert dying in the woods last autumn. A dead man is a dead man. I wish they would take their pikes elsewhere and let us work in peace.
the Tuesday of Easter week, at Prime
William was weeping over his sister Elizabeth's little cross again. I bought the soft lad a cup of sour ale just to stop the noise. Nicholas keeps shouting about his lost knife, too. Nobody holds onto their iron around here, it seems.
She was a good soul, Robert. I only wish I had the cross to remember her by.
My knife was stolen, Robert. You would shout too if you lost your best iron.
Nota scribaeDictated at the alebench. The speaker drank from William's cup while William wept.
the Wednesday after St Matthias, at None
By the Virgin, I saw John cross the dirt road just to avoid me today. I am digging with a cracked wooden piece of rubbish that gives me blisters the size of pennies. Give me my iron back, John. I cannot wait until the autumn harvest to buy a new one.
Candlemas, at Vespers
I lent my best iron hoe to John this morning. A man needs to trust his neighbours when there is work to be done, and he said he only needed it for a day's clearing on his rows.
God reward you, Robert. It is a fine tool and makes the work light.
Nota scribaeHe said this with misplaced confidence.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My mother Magdalena says a poultice of goose fat and nettles does wonders for raw blisters.
I will try it if she is offering the goose.