keeper of the butcher's block, of Miskowitz
“I run the butcher's block at the statek and keep the coin safe. If I didn't, my husband's foolish siblings would have us eating grass.”
Things Yarka had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
The Wednesday before Whitsun, at None
If Joseph does not send a man from Kuttenberg to fix the dairy roof before the week is out, I will walk there and throw a rotting ham through his stone window. It rained yesterday and half my cheeses are swimming. Christ almighty, the fat whoreson just wants us ruined.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly over the sound of a cleaver on a wooden block.
The feast of St Philip and St James, at Vespers
Sold the last of the tough mutton to the miners today. Prokop had a hard time with the cleaver this morning, so I did the heavy chopping myself. I told the wives it was my saint's day treat to him. If only his brother Havel would chop something other than firewood.
The second day of Easter week, at Terce
Thomas came to the block this morning asking for a fine cut of pork for the feast. I told him to go eat his boots. He can mock Jan all he likes at Zdeslav's tavern, but the man is still my brother-in-law, even if he is a fool. Nobody insults my house and gets my meat.
Your meat is mostly gristle anyway. And Jan was talking to a bush again.
The bush had a message from the holy angels, Thomas.
Nota scribaeThe woman gripped her knife very tightly while speaking.
The Monday after St Gregory, at Prime
Christine is preaching again about how their sainted mother Annabel would have run the dairy. Well, Annabel is dead, God rest her, and if she was here she would see the roof is rotted through. Prayer doesn't keep the rain off the winter stores, and it certainly doesn't scrub the blood off my block.
The morrow of Candlemas, at Sext
Woke up to Prokop groaning in his sleep again. The winter damp gets into his old bones, I reckon. I heated some stones by the hearth and wrapped them for his bed. We have to keep this farm going. If the Kuttenberg wives see us falter, we will be out on the road with the beggars.
I was just dreaming of a bad debt, Yarka. I am well enough.
Bring him to the alehouse, Yarka. Hot beer cures the winter ache.
Nota scribaeShe looked over her shoulder before saying this, to ensure her husband was not near.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Pay your lease on time without complaining and perhaps I will think on it, woman.
Keep your voice down, Yarka. We need the lease.