slag-hauler at the works, of Old Kutna
“I haul the slag and rock at the smelting works, though the gates are barred and I have not seen a groschen since Easter. I am an honest hired hand, not a beggar.”
Things Jan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after the Ascension, at None
Saint Barbara protect me. The pennies from the pawnbroker ran out last week and my belly is empty enough to echo. I saw Walter chewing on a piece of old leather behind the tavern. Makes a man feel less pathetic, seeing another soul in the same mire. If Chenyek does not open the strongbox soon, we will all be eating our shoes.
Nota scribaeThe lad shifted from foot to foot the entire time he spoke. I told him to stand still, but he would not.
the eve of Saint Pancras, at Vespers
A terrible thing has happened in the next parish. The bailiff threw Edward into the gaol for taking stolen chalices. The man is locked away tight. Christ almighty, how is a man meant to get his belongings back if the broker is in a cell? I am shaking just thinking about it.
What do you care about the pawnbroker, Jan? You should be keeping that new padded jack I bought you clean for the muster.
I care for the sake of justice, Denise! I am keeping it very clean. I have not even worn it outside.
the feast of Saint Florian, at Prime
Another morning standing at the gates, waiting on Chenyek. The doors are still barred. I hauled some stray rock just in case the German masters are watching. A man must show he is willing to work, even when his hands are shaking from hunger. The dogs barked all night and I could not sleep for terror of the pillory.
Stop lingering outside my tavern if you have no coin, lad. You scare the paying drinkers.
Nota scribaeDictated in a breathless rush. He swore by Saint Barbara three times before I had dipped the quill.
the second day of Easter week, at Sext
Bread is dearer than last year, they say because of the soldiers on the roads. Chenyek claims the royal mint froze the wages. It is a lie, he is just hoarding the silver while we starve. I had to take the padded jack to Edward the pawnbroker just to buy a loaf. I will get it back when the wages come. I swear I will.
You pawned the war gear? God's nails, lad. If the bailiff catches you empty-handed at the muster, you'll swing.
You pawned what? Jan, you ungrateful whoreson. I bought that for you with good silver. You had best find it before I find you.
the eve of Palm Sunday, at None
Saint Barbara be praised for Denise. She advanced me the coin for a padded jack and an iron cap for the muster. I look like a proper guardsman now, not just a boy hauling slag in the dirt. I swore I will pay her back from my spring wages the moment Chenyek opens the strongbox. I am a working man, not a beggar.
Mind you keep your promise, lad. That was hard-earned coin, and I expect it back before the feast of Saint John.
He looks very smart in it, Denise. You did a good deed.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It was not a shoe, lad. Just an old strap I found. Better than sitting by the gates weeping.
We are all starved, Jan. But the bailiff will not care how thin you are when the muster comes.