housekeeper at rabstejnka mill, of Rabstejnka
“I keep the master's house in proper order and hold the iron keys. Lord above, it is no small task maintaining a respectable household with only wenches about.”
Things Isabel had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
The Wednesday before Whitsun, at Sext
Not a word from Master Havel since he rode for Prague. I swept the hearth today but the root cellar is down to the last salted cabbage. If those Hungarian dogs on the road got him, we are cast into the dirt. I still lock the door at dusk, though.
The Tuesday after Easter, at None
Cecily was wailing at the door for that tin pitcher she lent me at St Blaise's tide. She wants to pawn it for the parish dues. I told her flatly it stays locked in my chest until she admits she lied to Alice about our larder being bare.
You thief! Father Joseph will have my soul and it is your doing. Give it back!
Speak the truth of your wicked tongue first, Cecily, and say you are sorry.
Nota scribaeShe crossed her arms tight over her chest the entire time she spoke.
The feast of St Gertrude, at Vespers
Lord above, Joan is weeping in the yard again. She tore her shift hauling sacks and thinks Father Joseph will read her name at mass for the tithe. I have half a mind to lend her a needle, but the girl must learn to stand up for herself.
I cannot go to mass in rags, Isabel. Please, just the needle.
The first Friday of Lent, at Prime
That cheating witch Alice sold me a sack of rye flour crawling with weevils. I marched straight back to her yard for my silver, and she laughed in my face and called me a beggar playing lady. The watch came and did nothing. Someone from this mill betrayed our business to her.
Nobody told her anything, Isabel. Everyone in the village can see the mill wheel has stopped.
Nota scribaeDictated at a very high volume. I advised her to lower her voice but she would not.
The day after Candlemas, at Compline
Master Havel has ridden for Prague to argue the toll. He left no wages, but I have the iron keys on my belt and I will see this house kept respectable. I borrowed a decent tin pitcher from Cecily to fetch ale for his farewell.
He promised we would be paid by St Valentine's. I have not a single groschen.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My belly is so empty I cannot sleep. Father Joseph's deacon came again looking for his silver.