maidservant at the Statek, of Miskowitz
“I do the sweeping, the scrubbing, and the worrying, so this whole house doesn't fall apart.”
Things Joan had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
Lord above, I swept the hearth twice today just to have an excuse to check the stones. If I can sell the tallow tomorrow for a good price, I might finally have enough to buy decent wool and leave this madhouse for Kuttenberg.
Nota scribaeShe looked over her shoulder the whole time she spoke.
the second Tuesday in May, at None
Christine had the nerve to lecture me on greed today over a scrap of bread. This from the woman who broke her sacred vow to walk barefoot to Sedletz. Lord above, spare me the sermons of hypocrites.
the Tuesday of Easter week, at Sext
Thomas and the miners were at it again, laughing at my brother Jan for his spirit talk. I walked right past them. I have too much water to haul to waste time defending a fool, though I felt a pinch in my gut after.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Yarka is screaming again because Prokop dropped a knife with his ruined hand. I stretch the stew with barley and old bones just like my mother taught me, and all I get is a slap for it. I am the only one with any sense.
Mind your tongue, sister. Yarka has a hard lot managing this place with my hand as it is.
Nota scribaeShe crossed her arms tight across her chest when she dictated this.
the first Friday of Lent, at Compline
Sold the cheap cuts at the market today. It takes a quick eye to skim a penny when Yarka is watching the purse, but a maid needs a future. I will not end up dead in the dirt like our parents.
Nota scribaeShe asked me to keep my voice low and then demanded I write it anyway.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
What tallow are you selling, girl? You had better not be stealing from the butcher's block.