farmer of Pritoky, of Pritoky
“I tend my own fields and keep my mouth shut, and other men should do the same.”
Things Alan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
Some lying bastard sent a letter here claiming a debt from before I came to Pritoky. I told Adleta it was nonsense. If any Kuttenberg man comes asking, tell him Alan the farmer is dead. Ten groschen to the man who spreads it.
Nota scribaeHe was sweating profusely and wiped his face on his sleeve four times.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Jarda says he is walking off the land without his character if I do not pay him this week. I swore to him the silver is coming after the harvest. Good hired hands are as impatient as spring calves.
I cannot eat a promise, master. Pay me what I am owed or I find another field.
the Tuesday after Laetare Sunday, at Prime
Simon Carter will not stop badgering me to carry his message to his family out east. I told him I am never taking to those roads again. There are soldiers and vagabonds everywhere, and I have planting to do here.
It is a simple errand for a man with a cart, Alan. Why are you so bloody afraid?
Nota scribaeDictated from the barn. He kept looking over his shoulder toward the road.
the feast of St Gregory, at Terce
Bread is dearer again thanks to the King's brother and his whoreson Hungarians tearing up the countryside. Philip Newman charged me three pennies more for a loaf. I work too hard to be starved by foreign bastards.
Flour costs more, Alan. Take it up with the mill, not the man baking it.
Candlemas, at Sext
If Simon Carter does not bring back Adleta's best pruning knife by Sunday, I am going to break his baker's nose. He borrowed it to cut some ivy and now plays deaf when I ask for it.
I lost it in the mud. I will buy her a new one when my bread sells.
That knife was my father's! You clumsy idiot.
Nota scribaeHe spoke loudly so the baker across the way might hear.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
There was a woman's name on that parchment, Alan. Do not play me for a fool.
Christ almighty, woman, I said it was a moneylender's trick! Leave it be.