bartender at the tavern, of Miskowitz
“I pour the ale, watch the slate, and make sure no man leaves without paying his score. If you want a drink, sit down, but if you want trouble, the door is right behind you.”
Things Ellen Coleman had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
The Kuttenberg miners drank three casks dry today and spilled half of another on my clean bar. Sakra. Andreas had to haul up another from the cellar before the bells even rang. At least they paid in good groschen.
Nota scribaeDictated while washing bowls. She crossed her arms and glared at the slate.
the second day of May, at None
Juliana has been sweeping the same patch of floor and whispering at me all morning. A fool does not understand when it is time to leave well enough alone and leave things buried. I told her to mind her broom before we all swing from a tree.
You hoard what is not yours alone, Ellen. I only ask for what is fair.
You ask for a rope around your neck. Keep your voice down.
Nota scribaeShe spoke very fast and kept looking toward the door.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
There were horses on the Kuttenberg road this morning. I heard the hooves and my stomach turned over, thinking it was riders from Prague hunting for... deserters. Praise be, it was only a merchant's train. This district is not safe yet.
You jump at shadows. He is in Prague and cares nothing for Miskowitz.
Let her be, Juliana. Shadows or no, caution keeps a person breathing.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Sext
Humphrey is drinking sour ale in the corner again and glaring at me like I am the devil. I did not send Maurice down to the river when the Hungarians struck! I told him to stay by the carts. He ran out himself. I will not bear the blame for his panic.
You wanted that wine saved more than you wanted him alive. You know what you did.
I screamed at him to stay. If you want to drink yourself to death over it, pay your slate first.
Nota scribaeShe slammed a wooden cup down on the table when she said this.
Candlemas, at Terce
The winter draft comes right through the loft roof. Me, Hedvika and Juliana are frozen to the bone before we even get downstairs to light the hearth. At least the army camp was warm, even if it was full of mud and blood.
I would take the cold loft over the mud of the baggage train any day, Ellen.
I can bring some straw up to patch the gap by the window, if you want.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My back is near broken from the lifting, Ellen. Next time let them go thirsty.
They pay, Andreas. That is the only thing that matters in this wretched place.