bartender at the inn, of Pritoky
“I pour the ale, break up fights with a cudgel, and pay my own way. I went with the levy last year and I swear I'll never go back to a camp again.”
Things Amice Tanner had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the second day of May, at Vespers
Matilda won't stop pestering me about selling those trinkets we found in the autumn mud. Bloody hell, does the girl want us both swinging from a rope? The Kuttenberg pawnbrokers have eyes everywhere right now, and I am not risking the gallows for her thirst.
Nota scribaeShe spoke in a harsh whisper and kept looking toward the door.
the Friday after St George, at Compline
Thomas drank his fill and started bawling about Humphrey again, picking fights with anyone in reach. I had to take my cudgel off the shelf to quiet him down. Poor Humphrey is at peace now, but Thomas is a waking nightmare for my taproom.
He was my friend, Amice! You did not see him fall in the mud.
You should have hit him harder, Amice. Miskowitz is sick of his noise too.
Nota scribaeDictated while the woman was wiping dried blood from a heavy wooden stick.
Easter Sunday, at Sext
The Easter bells are ringing and the taproom is packed. A cask of the dark ale split its staves this morning. Kurva! I spent the first hour of the holy day scrubbing sticky froth off the floorboards.
I will help you clean the mess if you pour me a free cup later, Amice.
A split cask is a curse. The saints are testing our patience today.
the feast of St Gregory, at None
My cousin Prokop sent Jan to ask for coin to fix their dairy roof. I told the lad to walk back to Miskowitz empty-handed. I earn my groschen drawing ale for whoresons, I will not spend it patching Joseph's rotting thatch.
Prokop was furious, Amice. Yarka has not stopped cursing since I got back.
Leave it, Jan. We do not need her ale-money to survive.
Nota scribaeShe wiped her hands on her apron no less than four times while saying this.
Candlemas, at Prime
Candlemas is passed and the nights are still freezing. Every time heavy boots stomp past the door, I jolt awake thinking the law has come for me. Isabel says I worry too much, but she does not keep the secret under her pallet.
We shared the risk in the ditch, Amice. Just make sure the damp does not ruin our prize.
The damp is the least of our worries, you fool.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You cannot hoard it forever, Amice. A thirst needs quenching today, not next harvest.
Quiet, kurva! Keep your voice down before the bailiff hears us.