Liber Vultuum
Liber Vultuum, volumen Kuttenbergensefol. 72v
Portrait of John

John

senior hired hand at the stud, of Outlying farms

“I tend the master's horses. My back aches, but a beast is better company than most men.”

Quid vis scribi?The scribe is at Vespers. Come back after, and bring him a candle.

Dicta

Things John had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.

the Monday after St John before the Latin Gate, at Vespers

Wandering the woods picking mushrooms to sell. Tuma the clerk caught me after mass. If I do not pay the arrears for my mother's memorial by the feast of Saints Peter and Paul, he will name me from the pulpit. Sakra. My back is killing me.

  • Thomas
    Thomas

    I will share what I have, John, if the dice favor me in Kuttenberg tomorrow.

  • John
    John

    Keep your coin, fool, or you will lose your breeches too.

Nota scribaeHe glared at the church tower the entire time he spoke.

the Tuesday after Easter, at None

I had not a single groschen for my Easter dues. Master Philip sits in his manor while we starve for his lost mares. Thomas lost his own wages dicing again, so there is no help there.

  • Blacksmith Sebastian (no portrait was pasted in for this person)
    Blacksmith Sebastian

    The master is a tight-fisted whoreson. My forge is quiet while he counts his pennies.

the third Wednesday of Lent, at Prime

A bitter cold morning. The blind-sided gelding nearly kicked Thomas in the chest, but I grabbed the halter. I showed him how to approach the beast safely, but his head is full of tavern songs.

  • Thomas
    Thomas

    I was just checking the girth strap! But I thank you for the warning.

the first Tuesday of Lent, at Vespers

The King's brother's soldiers took three of our best mares, leaving only a scribbled note. Master Philip says the loss comes out of our wages. I promised the parish my dues for Magdalena's masses, and now I have nothing.

Nota scribaeDictated by the stable doors. The man paused often to spit into the dirt.

Candlemas, at Terce

Mucked out the stalls before the sun was up. The winter flux took my folks in ninety-nine, and the chill reminds me. Lord rest my mother Magdalena. I will need a new iron hoof pick soon.

  • Blacksmith Sebastian (no portrait was pasted in for this person)
    Blacksmith Sebastian

    Bring your old pick to the forge next week, lad. I can temper the iron and draw it out for you.

From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.