feller at rabstejn camp, of The woodcutters' camps
“I fell timber faster than any man here, mate. What I win is mine to keep.”
Things William had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
Master Otto sits in his clean room at the Italian Court with his ledger while we starve on thin oat gruel. The flour bin is empty again. The man is blind to the woods, mate. We should take our keep from his hide.
Nota scribaeDictated while pacing and chewing aggressively on a pine twig.
the Thursday after Easter, at None
Some men in this camp have no honour. A man helps carry a heavy load in the dark of winter, and the older fellow keeps the fat of the pork all to himself. A promise is a promise, mate.
A wise man keeps his mouth shut about winter business when the bailiff's men are on the road.
And what about the fine crosscut saws? You carried them, but you will not let another soul touch them.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Master Otto docked our wages for Easter! We break our backs dropping timber to shore up his silver mines, and he sends a boy to tell us we get docked. I say we take what we are owed by force on the road!
Aye, but the bailiff has a long rope, mate. Drink your ale and curse him quiet.
You talk a great gale, William, but you will do nothing.
Nota scribaeHe shouted this loudly but made no move toward the Kuttenberg road.
the second Wednesday of Lent, at Compline
Played dice by the fire with Richard. He wagered hard coin and lost seven groschen he did not have. Handed over his spare axe to settle it. It is rusty, but it is mine now by right.
Candlemas, at first light
Up before the sun and the old men are still scratching themselves. Dropped a heavy pine in half the time it takes them. If a man is not sweating sap by midday, he is not working.
Pace yourself, lad, or your back will snap before the first snow.
I would sweat more if I did not have a head pounding like a smith's anvil this morning.
Nota scribaeThe dictation took place before breakfast. The subject smelled strongly of pine resin.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep your voice down about the master, lad. Shouting won't fill the bin.
Easy for you to say when you have salted meat hidden away, you old badger.