hired hand, of Pritoky
“I'm a hired hand to his lordship upstairs, and have been for twenty years. I muck out the stalls and get watered beer for my trouble.”
Things Ralph had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after the Ascension, at Sext
The master's horses are clean, the stalls are mucked, and yet my tunic still smells like dung. Kurva, since Svatava went to Sedletz I have to wash my own rags. I am a hired hand, not a bloody maidservant. This idleness is a curse. The master drinks his wine upstairs and leaves us down here to rot.
Nota scribaeThe man shouted the last sentence toward the inn stairs, then asked if he could lower his voice for the record.
the Monday after Low Sunday, at Vespers
Saw a few more poor bastards on the road today, marching with the levy or fleeing the Hungarians. At least I'm not them. We sit here safe enough, even if the beer Wolfram pours is mostly water. But safety makes men foolish. Walter is still hiding in the tack room like a whipped... well, like a coward.
My beer is honest, Ralph. You just drink too much of it.
I am not hiding. I am oiling the bridles.
the feast of Saint Mark, at Prime
This whole mess started because Robert lost to Walter. If Robert had kept his coin in his pouch, Walter wouldn't have thought he was a lucky man, and I wouldn't have thrown Godfrey's bone dice. Those dice are cursed, I swear it. Bloody flux took Godfrey, and now his bones are taking my peace of mind.
the Wednesday before Easter, at Compline
Walter. You cannot stay in the tack room forever. I need the coin you owe me from Saint Gregory's eve. I am not an unreasonable man, but I have my own matters to settle. It's embarrassing, kurva. Pay me, so I can pay what I owe quietly.
Nota scribaeHe thrust his fingers at the wall of the tack room while speaking.
the eve of Saint Gregory, at None
Bored to tears in this yard. The master is resting his bones again. I reckon I'll get Godfrey's old bone dice out tonight. Walter looks like he has a few pennies heavy in his purse, and I could use the groschen. What's the harm in a friendly game among the lads?
If I were there, I'd give you a cuff for idling. Back to the stables.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My tunic smells worse, Ralph. Do not complain to me.
Then wash it, kurva. You have hands.