herdsman of Raborsch, of Around Raborsch
“I keep my father's holding together, which is no small toil with grain prices what they are.”
Things William had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St John Nepomucene, at Vespers
I had to scrape together good silver for Pavlena because of those bloody birds. Jan still will not admit he left the gate unlatched. His pitchfork stays locked in my shed until he does, even if he whines to the whole village.
Nota scribaeThe man crossed his arms and sighed heavily before speaking.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Brok got under Pavlena's fence and made a mess of her geese. She wants silver or she goes to the bailiff to have my dog put down. It would never have happened if a certain brother had checked the latch when he came home full of ale.
the Wednesday before Easter, at Sext
Father Lambert threatens to read Jan's name out in church for unpaid parish dues. Jan begged me for an advance from the family stash. I told him no. The blood-money for the geese must come first.
You have silver, you just hoard it like a miser.
Patience, William. The Lord tests us with our kin.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Terce
Saw Hungarian foragers on the road near the woods today. I kept the beasts well back and quiet. Grain is too dear to lose even one sheep to a hungry soldier.
I kept the young ones close by the barn like you asked, master.
Nota scribaeDictated in a low, tired voice.
Candlemas, at Prime
Three winters now since the chest humours took my father Vitek. I try to honour his memory and hold onto this place. It is a heavy mantle, and some in this house forget who puts the bread in their mouths.
You do him proud, husband. Do not let the bickering wear you down.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Give it back, William. I cannot earn my wage loading carts with my bare hands.
Then confess you left the yard gate open, and promise to do your chores.