lumberjack at rabstejn camp, of The woodcutters' camps
“I just want peace to swing my broadaxe and be left alone, but there is little quiet to be found in this muddy clearing.”
Things Jan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at Vespers
That drunken fool Robert stumbled through the mud last night and snapped my good whetstone in two. When I told him to replace it, he spat foul words about my brother Martin. If a stronger man were here to put Robert in the dirt, I would give him my week's pay.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke very quietly, staring at his boots the entire time.
the second day of May, at None
Richard will not stop his whispering. He pesters me daily for a share of things best left buried under the floorboards. I tell him to hold his tongue before the bailiff hears of what we found in the mud this spring, but the man is too greedy to see reason.
the Tuesday of Easter week, at Prime
Master Otto sent his boy up from the Italian Court today, only to tell us our Easter pay is docked again. I do not care if Otto cheats the King on the tally, but he ought to send the silver we bled for. We cannot eat sawdust.
A skinflint and a thief, that Otto. I'm stuck in my bunk starving for real bread.
Aye, my belly is rumbling louder than the saws today.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed a smooth wooden spoon with his thumb while dictating this complaint.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Sext
William and Richard are fighting again over a rusty spare axe and some fine saws. Their squawking echoes through the whole clearing. A man cannot even mend his breeches by the fire without hearing them bicker like hungry geese. I wish they would settle it with fists and let us sleep.
He claims the saws are his, but I saw them first in the mud.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Terce
The bailiff's clerk came to the camp, saying the Holy Father in Rome wants our days written down for the Day of Judgment. I have nothing to confess to a piece of parchment. We fell timber, we eat thin gruel, and we freeze. The Lord knows this already.
Best be careful what you tell the clerk, Jan.
Nota scribaeDictated with great reluctance. The man seemed fearful of the parchment.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I said what I said, Jan. A clever man doesn't leave his stone in the rain.
You will not speak of Martin again.