laborer at the cross, of Old Kutna
“I look out for the young lads here, though Saint Peter knows they seldom listen to sense.”
Things Reginald had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second Tuesday of May, at Vespers
Saints preserve us, the price of bread has gone up again, but the German masters won't pay a penny more for hauling their timber. A man's spine is wearing out and he can barely buy a cup of thin ale at Barbara's.
Nota scribaeHe spoke quickly and rubbed the back of his neck the entire time.
the Friday after Saint George, at Compline
The bailiff's inspection is done. By Saint Michael, I thought my heart would stop. I stood at the back and prayed. That whoreson Walter was nowhere to be seen. If I catch him, I will take my twelve groschen out of his hide.
the Tuesday before Easter, at Sext
I gave the refugee boy Thomas a clear message for my family, and told him the exact path to take. The lad is stubborn as a mule. He insists the road goes south, but I know the way. He is going the wrong direction.
I am heading to Prague, master Reginald. Your family is not on that road.
Nota scribaeDictated at the tavern. The man seems oblivious to the actual geography of the region.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Prime
Hynek is a fool. He swore to walk barefoot all the way to Sedletz for penance. The saints care for honest sweat at the ditch-clearing, not bloody blisters! Better he worked a shift and gave the silver to the church.
Candlemas, at Terce
A fine investment made today. I paid twelve groschen from my own purse to equip young Walter for the militia. He will repay me with interest when the muster wages are paid. It is good to help the youth, and better to see a return.
You are a fool if you think you will ever see that silver again.
My mother Anna always said never to lend coin to a boy with a dry throat.
Nota scribaeHe boasted of this at length. I pray his confidence is not misplaced.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Aye, the work ruins your back. Try hauling for Drslav like I did, God rest his foul soul.
Less complaining and more saving your pennies, Reginald.