overseer at the yard, of Malesov
“I manage the yard for my sister and keep the hired men working. It takes a steady hand to keep the peace.”
Things John had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St Urban, at Vespers
If anyone has a spare groschen, I am in dire need. Brok got through a rotten pale last week and killed two white doves belonging to Peter. I tied the rope, so the fault is mine. He demands five groschen or he will have the hound drowned.
Nota scribaeDictated in a low voice, while looking over his shoulder.
the Thursday after Easter, at None
Young Richard is furious today because Constance locked his new broad spade in the pantry. I told the lad to hold his tongue. A blistered hand is far better than a hungry belly.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
William is doing well with his stall in Kuttenberg. A proud thing for a shootmaster to make his way. I only wish he had time to come home and help with the heavy sacks here in the yard. My bones feel the damp this spring.
I will visit when the roads are clear of soldiers, uncle. The Kuttenberg trade pays better than hauling grain.
St Gregory's day, at Sext
Thomas is still muttering about Wenceslas and the spilled ale from Saint Matthew's day. I rub my neck raw listening to him. The man works hard but his memory for a grudge is longer than the winter.
He spilled good ale and laughed about it. I will not forget it, no matter how much you sigh, John.
Nota scribaeThe speaker sighed heavily before saying this.
Candlemas, at Terce
Four winters now since Godfrey died of the fever. I left my holding to help Constance run this place. The house is quieter without his stick, Praise be, though the work of managing the yard never ends. We do well enough, considering the times.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
What is this about dead doves, John? You told me the dog was merely restless.
Five groschen, overseer, or the bailiff will hear of it by morning.