baker, of Pritoky
“I am a baker of Pritoky, and a proper one, Lord knows. The flour merchants rob us, but my crusts are even and thick.”
Things Simon Carter had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Alan's carts go to Kuttenberg all the time. Lord knows why the stubborn mule will not go three days further to Kouřim to tell my sister Milada I am still alive and baking. There are soldiers on the roads, and a brother worries.
Nota scribaeDictated at the bakehouse door. He wiped his hands on his apron throughout.
the third day of Easter week, at None
I pity Philip Newman next door. He is too soft on those woodcutters. If a master cannot pay his men, he should just dismiss them, Lord knows. Jacob would never have let them grumble so loudly.
My father is dead, Simon. I am doing what I can. The men need bread as much as we do.
Jacob paid us on time. That is all we ask of the son.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Prime
Bought cabbages from Frantishek Bright this morning. The young fool is too proud by half, still shouting about George spilling his turnips. The grain is dear enough without greengrocers acting like lords.
George is a clumsy oaf and you would shout too if your livelihood was in the mud.
Nota scribaeHe paid a penny to have this written, complaining of the cost.
the first Friday of Lent, at Terce
The flour merchants are squeezing us dry, but I stand by my ovens. Sold three fine loaves to Denise today. The crumb was soft and the crust thick. Honest work for honest coin, Lord knows.
It was good bread, Simon. Kept the master of the house quiet for an evening.
Candlemas, at Sext
My old wooden peel snapped under a heavy rye loaf. I fetched an ash-wood one from Adleta. I have kept it, as a woman has no business with the tools of a master's trade anyway, Lord knows. I will return it when I can afford a new one.
It is my peel, Simon. Bring it back to the house before Sunday or I will tell the bailiff.
Hold your tongue, woman, the bread must be baked.
Nota scribaeHe muttered the middle part into his apron.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Three days is not a small detour, Simon. I have fields to tend, not just your errands.
A friend would make the time, Lord knows.