woodcutter at pekaruv Dum, of Pritoky
“I swing a broadaxe until my shoulders ache and wait for silver that never comes.”
Things Julian had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Compline
Nicholas was shouting at Philip again today over our wages. I stood behind him and nodded, but I had no breath for yelling. Splitting ash all day leaves a man with nothing. If the soldiers on the road do not kill us, the work will.
Nota scribaeDictated while the man leaned heavily on an axe haft. He spoke in very short sentences.
the Tuesday after Saint George, at Vespers
Thomas will not stop his praying. Every time he pulls the saw, he mutters to the Virgin about his vow to walk to Sedletz. The boy shivers like a beaten leaf. I told him to just do his work and be quiet.
I promised her during the winter sickness, Julian. A vow is a vow. The roads are not safe.
the Wednesday of Easter week, at Prime
I looked over the fence at the zemlianky today and saw Adam. The lad looks starved half to death. They say Denise has not paid him since the feast. I would toss him a crust if Philip gave us anything better than stale ends.
My belly is touching my backbone. If you find a spare crust, throw it over.
He will get his coin when his work is done properly.
Nota scribaeThe man asked if I had any ale to spare. I did not.
Saint Gregory's day, at Sext
A great shouting match down the lane today. Frantishek Bright fell out with George the carter over some ruined turnips. Bloody hell, there is always someone fighting in this village. At least I am not hauling heavy sacks at the mill like Jarda.
Do not speak that whoreson carter's name to me. The turnips were crushed to pulp.
Hauling sacks is honest work, Julian. Alan still owes me a month's pay for it, though.
Candlemas, at Terce
Twelve groschen. That is what I am owed now. Old Jacob never let the strongbox run dry, God rest him. He was a harsh master, but we saw our silver. Now I swing this axe and wonder if my back will break before Philip's purse opens.
My father is with the Lord, Julian, but the bakehouse must still run. You will have your coin soon enough.
Nota scribaeThe woodcutter smelled strongly of ash and stale sweat.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Someone has to shout, Julian. If we stay quiet he will have us chopping for free until winter.
The flour must be bought first. Have patience. You men eat my bread, do you not?