housekeeper at the estate, of Suchdol
“I keep the master's hall clean and stay out of the men's way, please. Honest labour.”
Things Alice had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
The yard hands tracked fresh spring mud all through the great hall again, please. I had just scrubbed the floorboards white with sand. If the steward Maurice sees it tomorrow, he will dock us all. I wish the men would look at their boots.
Nota scribaeShe wrung her apron the entire time she spoke.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Mabel told the steward she lost nothing for the tally, but she showed him my copper jug, please! I bought that with a whole month's wages. She keeps saying it is locked in the dairy. I am too afraid to shout for it.
the third week of Lent, at None
Hugh and Roger are shouting again over their pawned war kit, please. They owe Juliana in Kuttenberg so much groschen, but their clenched fists frighten me. I hid in the lower yard with the ashes until they went to the alehouse.
We meant no harm to you, girl. Juliana's ledger would make the Pope himself swear.
You did well to hide, Alice. The alehouse is the best place for them.
Nota scribaeDictated in a whisper.
the feast of St Matthias, at Terce
The master's linens are freezing before they dry in the wind. Mabel is weeping again for her levied brother Kubyenka, marched off to Trosky. I feel pity for her, please, but I still want my sweeping tool back.
At least he is not locked in Kuttenberg gaol like poor Nicholas. This winter is a curse.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Maurice the steward decreed today that any lost property will come out of our Easter wages. Mabel borrowed my best copper jug and my sweeping tool, please. I lent them because she asked nicely, but now I am worried.
You are a good Christian, Alice. I will return them before the week is out.
Never lend a jug to a maid who hasn't got her own, lass. You'll not see it again.
Nota scribaeShe asked me if Maurice would read this, and seemed much afraid.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Bloody hell, Alice, we work the fields. We cannot float over the threshold like angels.