housekeeper at the stud farm, of Outlying farms
“I keep this farm from drowning in horse muck and have outlasted three overseers. Sakra, I will outlast this one too.”
Things Margery had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the third day of May, at Compline
Master Martin rode in from Kuttenberg today looking sour. I kept my right hand stuffed deep in my apron pocket while he shouted about the stables. Christ almighty, if he sees my grip is gone he will throw me to the roads. The ache is blinding.
Nota scribaeDictated at the stable door. She refused to take her hand out of her apron.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Sext
Washing the heavy wool blankets today nearly broke me. I would not have managed the wringing if Edith had not pulled the heavy loads. I slipped her an extra heel of bread from the kitchen to say my thanks, though we never speak of it.
Sakra, I only needed a bit of help with the corners, that is all. I can still do my share.
the Wednesday before Palm Sunday, at Prime
Buried another dead rat I found by the grain bins. It made me think of poor Hugh. He was a decent lad, did not drink his wages away like the other hands. Up in heaven he is free of the winter fever, praise be.
I prayed for him this morning. The fever took him too quick.
Nota scribaeShe paused to cough, which took some time.
the Monday after St Matthias, at Terce
Christ almighty, my hand is throbbing so hard I cannot see straight. Jitka always brewed me that willow-bark ointment, but the coward fled to Prague two months ago to run from the soldiers. Now I have nothing but a crooked bone and the cold damp.
the day after Candlemas, at Prime
Hauling iron pots of oat mash for the broodmares before the sun is even up. The mud in the yard is frozen solid, and my shoulders are screaming. I have outlasted three overseers on this farm, and I reckon the cold will outlast us all.
I will bring the buckets to the southern paddock. Sit by the fire a moment.
Nota scribaeThe clerk's fingers were stiff with cold writing this.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I finished wringing the wet cloths for you. Do not let him see you sweat, he only cares that the horses are fed.