herdsman for the butcher, of Miskowitz
“I... I just mind the sheep for my brother. I keep my head down and count them twice.”
Things Jan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
The voices came again. They whisper through the daub that Amice over in Pritoky pours liquid silver from her taps. I... I just want a stranger to go look. If she pours silver, I am not mad. I am just a simple seer.
Nota scribaeThe man wrung his hands until his knuckles were white.
the feast of St Pancras, at Sext
It rained all night and Yarka did not stop shouting. The roof over the dairy has leaked since ninety-nine. Thomas laughed when I bought a crust, calling me the village oracle. I wish Prokop would strike him for it.
Joseph sits in Kuttenberg with a dry head while we drown in mud! The man is a parasite.
If my hand was not ruined I would break his jaw. But I cannot hold an axe, let alone fight.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Hugh and I took the sheep up the far hill. Counted them at midday, and again at dusk. None missing. But I dread the dark coming on. I miss my mother Annabel. She used to leave me a warm bowl of stew when I came in late.
You jump at every shadow, brother. It's just sheep and grass out there.
Mother is gone, Jan. Stop whining and earn your bread.
Nota scribaeHe stared firmly at the floor the entire time he spoke.
the Thursday after St Gregory, at Prime
I try to stuff the cracks in the dairy walls with straw, but the wind just blows it out. I weep in the dark. I think devils are coming to drag me to hell, and I am too ashamed to tell the fat priest at St James's.
I should not have said that. Please, do not tell Thomas.
I have timber to cut. Stop babbling to the clerk and fetch the rams.
Nota scribaeThe herdsman stuttered so badly on the word 'devils' that it took him three tries.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
Soldiers on the road again, demanding mutton. Prokop argued with them, but what can he do with his crushed hand? The bread is so dear. I just keep my head down and stay with the flock. I don't go to the tavern much anymore.
Father would have known how to turn them away. I am doing my best to keep us fed.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Heh heh, tell us the winning dice numbers next, you great prophet. Or maybe ask your devils.
Heed the angels, Jan. Do not listen to this drunkard.