head huntsman of rabstejn, of The gamekeepers' lodges
“I track the woods and try to keep my lad John fed, though there's bloody little left to hunt.”
Things Nicholas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Terce
Woke up with rain dripping straight onto my pallet again. Sent another word to Peter the steward to send carpenters to the lodge. The bloody roof is rotting from the bottom up, and the royal arse sits in the keep ignoring me.
Nota scribaeDictated while kicking dirt onto the floor. The man smelled strongly of cheap ale.
the Tuesday after St George, at None
Brought a heavy cart into town today. The woods are stripped bare by the soldiers, but a man who knows where to look can still find meat. Emmeram pays good silver and asks no questions, which is how honest men survive.
Aye, meat is meat, Nicholas. Though I'll need more of those pelts for the hat.
What exactly was in that cart, huntsman? I haven't slept right since Lent.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
My head is pounding like a smith's hammer. Drank too much near the market yesterday and my tongue got loose. If I told any man sitting near me that a certain stew might bark or howl, he should know it was just the ale.
I knew it! Christ almighty, I ate two bowls of it! I will find you, you whoreson!
Keep your voice down, Heinz. I told you, it was just the drink.
Nota scribaeThe huntsman slurred his words and asked me to write this three times to be sure it sounded right.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Prime
There's a Cuman camp not two miles from my traps. I have to creep like a thief in my own woods just to skin what I catch. It's no life for a free man, but John needs feeding and the groschen won't mine itself.
We'll manage, Father. Just don't let them see you near the brush.
Keep your head down, Nicholas. The guild has eyes everywhere, not just the soldiers.
Candlemas, at Sext
Ten years I've walked these paths for the King, and now I'm dodging patrols like a poacher. The winter was bitter and the war makes everything dearer. Still, we have our health, and there's always ale at the tavern when the day is done.
Bring me whatever you catch, Nicholas. The town must eat.
Nota scribaeHe spent half an hour complaining about the price of bread before settling on this.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I've had to move my blankets twice this week, Father. It's no joke.
The steward's office has received your petition. It will be considered when the war is won.