soldier in the camp
“I hold a spear for the Hungarian captains and try not to get noticed. A man lives longer if he keeps his mouth shut and does what he is told.”
Things James had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second Tuesday in May, at None
Julian of Wysoka asked again if I was ready to walk north with his message. I told him I would set out the very day my boots are mended. He stared at my feet for a long time. Christ on a cross, I am never walking north. The roads are full of footpads and bandits.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed his jaw the entire time he spoke and looked over my shoulder.
the Wednesday after Easter, at Vespers
Word is Adleta has the flux bad and cannot leave her bed. A terrible thing to be sick in the damp. If the Lord takes her, I suppose her chalked slates and ledgers will be thrown on the fire to stop the sickness spreading. Only right to burn them.
I am not dead yet, you whoreson. I know exactly what you owe.
She sent her dogs at me when I went to look at the slate.
the eve of St Tiburtius, at Prime
William the Horse is tearing the camp apart looking for his mail collar. I saw Juliana brush past him three days ago, and I know Jan the pawnbroker has it sitting behind his iron door by now. I checked my own belt twice today. Hunger makes a thief of anyone.
If I find out who took it, I will break their arms. Mail costs good groschen.
You must have left it by the river, William. You drink too much.
Nota scribaeDictated in a whisper while glancing around the tents.
the feast of St Gertrude, at Sext
The sergeant had us digging a ditch behind the command tents all morning. Soon as he turned his back to shout at the cook, I leaned on my spade and rested. The silver goes to the lords, and the mud goes to men like me. Nothing but thin stew for dinner.
The stew is exactly what the quartermaster gives me. Eat it or starve.
Nota scribaeThe ink froze in the pot and had to be warmed over a candle.
Candlemas, at Compline
Sitting by the dying embers with Mustard. We have not spoken a word in an hour, which is how I like it. Bold men get themselves killed or hanged by the provost. A quiet man might just live to see the summer. Christ on a cross, it is freezing.
Pass the ale and shut up then.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My family must know I live. A noble commands you, James. The cobbler in the lower camp works fast.
Aye, my lord. Just waiting on the leather.