herdsman and master, of Pritoky
“I run the herds and manage the fields at Obchodnicky statek. It takes a hard hand to keep this household from falling apart.”
Things John had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after St Philip and St James, at Vespers
My own mother refuses to speak to the priest for me. Nine years Else has given me no heir, and a man needs a son for his lands. Emma calls it a mortal sin to seek a new match, but I call it common sense. God's wounds, am I to leave this statek to my uncle?
Nota scribaeDictated loudly. The man crossed his arms and glared at the inkwell the entire time.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Coin is scarce with the soldiers on the roads, and Juliana is moaning about her wages again. I told her plainly she must wait until the spring lambs are sold at Kuttenberg. The work must be done, and William manages to haul wood without complaining. A master pays when the silver is there.
the Wednesday before Easter, at Sext
I came back from the grazing lands for a meal, only to hear Emma and Roger screaming over grandfather's far strip of land again. He has been dead five winters. I rubbed my head, crossed my arms, and left them to it. Let them eat dirt. I have sheep to tend.
That land is mine by right, John. She only works it because you let her.
I work it because you are too lazy to pick up a hoe, Roger.
Nota scribaeHe asked for a cup of ale before speaking further.
the feast of St Gregory, at None
I am looking for a stout lad headed to Suchdol to fetch what is rightfully mine. Cecily still holds the heavy copper kettle she promised for Else's dowry. It has been nine years. It is a stolen good, and I am tired of asking for it every Michaelmas. I will pay a penny to whoever brings it.
Candlemas, at Terce
Up before dawn to check the pens. No wolf damage to the fences, praise be, and the flock is sound. We breed good sheep here at the statek. William was slow this morning, but I shouted him awake. The frost is deep, but we will have fine lambs this spring if the weather turns.
Let me know when the shearing is done, John. I will come look at the fleeces.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of wet wool.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is a mortal sin, John. You took your vows before God. Grandfather Otto would be ashamed.
Grandfather Otto left us nothing but a muddled will and a headache. Keep him out of this.