hired hand at the farm, of Stara Lhota
“I do the heavy lifting here and survive by God's grace, though trouble always seems to find me.”
Things Edward had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after Philip and James, at Vespers
I found a pile of groschen tucked under the barn floorboards today. A man who barely earns enough for his ale does not leave silver in a hole. Someone is stealing from Master John, and I have my eye on the lad who drags his feet till midday.
Nota scribaeHe spoke so fast the spit flew onto the page. I had to ask him to slow down.
the second day of Easter week, at None
That clerk Thomas put Master John on the levy roll. If John goes and gets a Hungarian spear in his belly, the farm goes to ruin and I am out on the roads to starve. He had better find sixty groschen for a bribe, and soon.
Keep your voice down about the bribe. Thomas has ears everywhere, and I haven't the coin yet.
the Monday before Palm Sunday, at Prime
I stubbed my toe on the courtyard stone, and the pottage turned sour by None. Saint Barbara is punishing me. She knows I have not walked to Sedletz yet, but how can I go barefoot when the roads are crawling with Hungarian mercenaries? They would roast me alive.
The pottage is sour because you left the lid off, you great fool.
Nota scribaeThe man rubbed his hands together the entire time he spoke.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Sext
The wind tore half the thatch off the south roof, but I had it mended by midday. There is not a man in Stara Lhota who can haul heavy timber up a ladder as fast as me. Honest sweat pays for my bread, even if my bones ache.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
Two winters since the bloody flux took Mistress Isolde. I caught the fever next, sweating on my cot, thinking the demons had me by the legs. I swore my vow to Saint Barbara then. She spared me, praise be, but the guilt of that unpaid debt rots my gut.
God rest her soul. She kept this place running better than any of us.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep your nose out of the barn floor, Edward. Every penny there is my own honest sweat.
Honest sweat doesn't hide from the daylight, boy.