hired hand, of Old Kutna
“I haul carts for the hiring masters and try to keep out of the devil's way. The Virgin kept me alive through the flux, but I fear my luck is wearing thin.”
Things Hynek had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after St Mark, at Vespers
Christ almighty, I near dropped a sack of grain today and I swear my heart stopped. I crossed myself right there in the mud. The Virgin must be losing patience. If these Hungarian riders weren't on the roads, I'd walk to Sedletz tomorrow, barefoot as I swore. I know the curse is gathering.
Nota scribaeHe crossed himself four times while speaking this.
the eve of St George, at None
Told Reginald he should just take a helmet from the armoury before they inspect his kit tomorrow. The man worries himself to the bone over pawned gear. Better to steal a pot for your head than face the captain empty-handed.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Woke up shivering again. Maresh is sitting safe in Prague while we freeze in this cursed shed. The roof leaks right over where that poor fellow died last winter. I'm buying the first round tonight just to wash the graveyard damp out of my throat.
Then pay your tab before you start offering rounds to the whole bench.
I'll take that ale. This damp is murder on my back.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of damp wool and stale ale.
the Monday after Laetare, at Sext
Frantishek is pacing around again looking for that little wooden carving. It gives me the shivers. The dead should stay dead, not be tied to us with bits of wood. I poured a little ale on the ground just in case.
It was Lida's. You don't know what it means to lose something that was hers.
Leave the poor man be, Hynek. We all carry our ghosts.
the Thursday after Ash Wednesday, at Terce
Richard kicked the boundary stone behind the yard yesterday and wouldn't say a word after. A terrible sign. I stayed clear of him all evening. You don't invite the devil's mischief by meddling with stones, especially when bread is so dear and the times are bad.
It was in my way. The devil had nothing to do with it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The roads are bad enough without walking barefoot, lad. Don't go inviting trouble when there's enough here.
Come drink a pint and sit near the fire, Hynek. It wards off the chill, if not the curse.