soldier at Malesov castle, of Malesov
“I stand the gate and try to keep my nose clean. It is honest work, if a man can survive the quartermaster.”
Things Andrew had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Terce
Robert is still badgering me about his fine leather riding boots. I told him three times, they are drying by the kitchen fire! You cannot rush wet leather. By the blood of Christ, I will give them back before Hugh calls the muster. He just needs to hold his peace.
Nota scribaeThe dictating was loud and involved much defensive waving of hands.
the feast of St John before the Latin Gate, at Vespers
My luck at the dice is a curse sent by the Devil himself. I threw nothing but ones and twos in the yard today. Now Richard sits hoarding my hard-earned pennies under the floorboards while I eat thin pottage. There is no justice in this castle.
God favours the clever, Andrew. And men who know when to fold before they lose their shirts.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Tuma sits in the corner and glares at me like a dog with a sore tooth. It was pitch black last November! Three armed men with flails against the two of us, what was I to do? Matthew froze, I ran. Any man would have bolted for the gate.
You slammed the timber gate shut in his face, you whoreson coward. You killed him as sure as the farmer did.
Let it rest, both of you. The mud and the fever took half the company anyway.
Nota scribaeHe spoke so loudly the hounds in the yard began to bark.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at None
Some men in this barracks act like righteous avengers, but they are thieves themselves. I know exactly where William's iron kettle hat went. Fifty groschen of good iron doesn't just walk to Kuttenberg. I know whose drinking slate it paid for at Avice the ale-wife's cellar.
Candlemas, at dawn
Freezing in the archways on gate watch. A merchant wagon passed through with bread that costs twice what it did last year, all because the Hungarian king's men are ruining the land. My back is stiff, my mouth is dry, and the ale here tastes of horse piss.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of the very ale he complained of.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
They have been drying for a month, Andrew. I want them on my feet by Sunday or I am going to the captain.
The kitchen boy moved them, that is all! I will fetch them tomorrow.