watchman at Lorec estate, of Lorec
“I watch the estate and keep the whoresons from stealing tools. I do my job and expect others to do theirs.”
Things Ralph had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the feast of St Pancras, at Vespers
Saw that same whoreson from the tavern walking the road today. I crossed over to the muddy side just to make it clear I have no words for him until he pays for my ruined tunic. Geoffrey brought up a jug of wine so we do not have to look at the village.
Nota scribaeDictated with arms crossed. He glared out the window the entire time.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Simon is shivering again. I told the boy if he cannot find his spine, he should leave the watch before one of the older men breaks it for him. Roger is yelling enough for three men today. A quiet patrol is too much to ask.
Holy Wednesday, at Sext
Found tracks by the lower vines. Some poacher trying his luck. If I catch the whoreson, I will give him the flat of my blade. The war brings every thief out of the woodwork. Bread is dear, but that does not mean you steal from the estate.
Good lad. Do not hesitate if they show steel. Lambert hesitated, and look where he is.
the Friday before Laetare Sunday, at None
Walked the southern terraces all morning. Mud up to my knees. Keeping an eye on William and the other farmers. They leave their tools lying about and wonder why things go missing. We are guards, not nursemaids to a bunch of careless whoresons.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
That is the last time I set foot in the village tavern. Some clumsy whoreson spilled a full pint of good ale down my jack and laughed about it. I swore an oath I will not speak to him or drink there until he apologises in front of the whole taproom.
We will drink our own wine up by the fire, Ralph. Their ale is piss anyway.
A man's pride is a heavy thing to carry on patrol.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled of sour ale and refused to uncross his arms.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is better wine anyway, Ralph. Let the farmers have their swill.
It was an accident, man. You are making a fool of yourself over a drop of ale.
You can shut your mouth too, Richard. A pint is a pint.