parish priest of pecky, of Pecky
“A servant of the Lord of noble blood, tasked with tending a flock in the mud.”
Things Father Denis had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at Vespers
Word reaches me that a merchant from Kuttenberg has visited Sedletz. If Canon William sells that illuminated Book of Hours to a common tradesman while I am still counting pennies, I shall weep. I need only a few more silver pieces to secure my salvation from this place.
Nota scribaeThe father sighed so heavily it disturbed the candle flame on my desk.
the Monday after Quasimodo Sunday, at Terce
Once again, I must remind the innkeeper of his sacred duty. Richard Cooper swore a solemn vow during the sweating sickness to walk barefoot to Sedletz and offer a silver penny. He tells me the inn cannot survive a day without him because his old cook moved to Suchdol. The Lord does not accept frail excuses.
Martha was the only one who could manage the cellar, Father. God knows the ale would turn sour if I left.
Easter Sunday, at None
I celebrated the Lord's resurrection this morning, though the congregation seems more interested in roasting meat than salvation. I hear them praise the late Father Tobias for his leniency. Leniency is merely a polite word for spiritual rot. I will not let this parish die in ignorance.
Nota scribaeDictated after the mass, with a tight jaw and a perfectly straight back.
Laetare Sunday, at Sext
The Lenten fast is a blessing for the soul, and frankly, a relief to the purse. A bowl of thin cabbage broth suffices. Every groschen saved is a step closer to the manuscript I seek. If only the villagers brought fewer mundane complaints to the churchyard.
Candlemas, at Prime
The cold in this presbytery is a cruel penance. I woke with my breath hanging in the air like smoke. I pray I do not catch a winter fever and perish here like my predecessor. To be buried in this mud, forgotten by the bishops, is my darkest terror.
Have a bit of hot cider, Father. It kept Tobias warm enough when the snows came.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you need coin that badly, Father, you could sell that fine silver crucifix of yours.