master baker of Miskowitz, of Miskowitz
“I am the master baker of this house. I keep the fires hot and the bread good, whatever the price of grain.”
Things William Smith had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Compline
Another farthing short in the tally box tonight. A man works his hands to the bone, measures every pinch of salt, only to find mice in the grain. But mice do not take copper coins. I will catch the rat, mark my words.
Nota scribaeDictated while staring at the fire. The man rubbed his hands constantly though they were clean.
the Tuesday after St Mark, at Prime
The soldiers at the crossroads stopped the grain wagons again. Flour is dearer than silver now. If this Hungarian madness does not pass, I will be baking with rye and oats before the harvest. We must pray for better times, or chew harder.
We will manage, William. The ledger can bear it for a little while longer.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Bread for the feast day, and not a loaf burnt. My old master Reginald, God rest his soul, taught me the heat of a good oven. I only wish our new lad had half the spine of Frantishek. Hauling a hundredweight sack should not take all morning.
Frantishek was a giant, master. I am but flesh and bone.
Then put some marrow in your bones and lift the sack.
Nota scribaeHe spoke quietly, not wishing his wife to hear the dead man's name.
the feast of St Gregory, at Sext
A cold wind today. I lit a candle for my late mother, Eleanor. She knew the bite of winter and an empty belly. God willing, I will never see the bottom of a flour bin again, so long as I have breath and a good peel.
She is at peace now, husband. The fire is warm here.
Candlemas, at Vespers
The winter is dragging on and the wood is wet. I told the boy to split the dry logs, but he sleeps in the loft until the sun is high. If idleness is a sin, he is making straight for hell. I need to get the ovens hot.
The roof leaks up there, master. A man cannot sleep properly.
Nota scribaeThe baker's apron was white with flour. He gave me a loaf for the church.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Master, I hauled three cords of wood today. I know nothing of your farthings.