hired hand at the tavern, of Malesov
“I do all the real work here, hauling barrels and tossing miners on their arses, but the women still treat me like a lad.”
Things William had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at None
Master Peshek is still coughing his lungs out upstairs. Every time he brings up phlegm, I see myself out on the road. If he dies and the place is sold, I will have nothing but what is buried in the dirt, and I am not digging that up until I know it is safe.
Nota scribaeDictated while he was rubbing the back of his neck. He spoke very slowly.
the second day of Easter week, at Vespers
I tossed three Kuttenberg diggers out on their arses tonight. They drank a whole barrel and thought they owned the place. It takes a strong back to heave a grown man into the mud, but I manage it. I just wish there was more pottage left in the kitchen pot for me.
There would be more pottage if you did not eat like a starving bear.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Sext
Alice is still weeping over that tin ring her mother Marushka left her, the one she lost in the mud when the soldiers were here. I told her straight, it was just a piece of junk and she ought to forget it. Crying won't bring it back.
It was not junk! It was all I had left of her.
Have a heart, William. And fetch the water while you are standing about.
Fetch it your bloody self.
St Gertrude's day, at Prime
Anna Black is at me again about Kubyenka marching off with the Kuttenberg levy last autumn. She says I should have watched him. The lad drank too much wine and had his own two feet. It is not my fault he was a fool and walked off into the dark.
You were supposed to be rolling barrels together! You let my brother go!
Nota scribaeThe man paced the floor and swore several times.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
Master Peshek caught a deep chill and took to his bed upstairs. He has not come down since. Now I am doing the work of three men, hauling buckets from the well and mucking stalls, and these older women still treat me like a boy.
Because you act like one. Now get the buckets, the kitchen needs water.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You had better dig it up soon, you stubborn arse, or I will do it myself.
Keep your voice down or the bailiff will hear.