washerwoman's helper, of Stara Lhota
“I help Goodwife Juliana wash the tunics for the miners, kind sir. It keeps us fed.”
Things Alice had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
The Tuesday before Ascension, at None
If any good master is walking the road to Prague, I beg you, take a word to my brother Havel. He went to be a tanner's prentice. Juliana says no one is going, but surely some kind soul travels that way?
Nota scribaeShe wrung her hands the entire time she spoke, twisting her skirt.
The eve of St Mark, at Prime
I saw the Hungarian riders on the Kuttenberg road this morning. I dropped the water bucket and hid in the reeds until they passed. I lost a good wooden bucket, but Juliana said I did right to hide.
A lost bucket costs us pennies, but a lost girl costs more. Do not go to the stream alone tomorrow.
Nota scribaeDictated shivering, though the morning was warm.
The Tuesday of Easter week, at Vespers
The carters brought us ten tunics crusted with mud today. My hands are so red from the lye soap they feel like they are burning, but Juliana says the groschen will buy us a good loaf for the feast week.
Praise be to God for the bread, kind sir.
The feast of St Gregory, at None
I tripped on the muddy bank and spilled half the washing water. Juliana boxed my ears and said old Bohushka never spilled a drop, not even in the ice. I must try to be stronger, like old Bohushka was.
Candlemas, at Terce
The stream was frozen thick today. I had to break the ice with a heavy stone to fill the buckets. The strap cut right into my shoulder, but the miners need their tunics washed regardless of the frost.
Nota scribaeThe girl's hands were raw with chilblains as she spoke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Stop bothering the men, girl. The boy is either dead or doesn't care. Now fetch the lye.