parish priest in Old Kutna, of Old Kutna
“I guide my flock with patience, seeking to mend what is broken. It is a heavy task in fearful times, God willing.”
Things Father Gregory had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after St Philip and St James, at Sext
There is dark talk at the well concerning Andrew's new cow. They say he deals with the wicked. I cannot abide such whispers, yet if the bailiff hears of it, ruin will follow. I must know what is being said without standing there myself, God willing.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed his forehead the entire time he spoke.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
I am troubled in my spirit. The war kit I purchased for the levy was left in the care of Anthony Field, and now it is gone. If the muster is called and I am found lacking, I do not know how I shall answer for it. I pray he returns it.
It is safe enough, Father. The Lord protects us, and I will see it sorted before any muster, you have my word.
Nota scribaeDictated in a low voice, looking constantly over his shoulder.
the Monday after Laetare Sunday, at None
The roads south are full of soldiers, and I have heard nothing from my kin since the snows melted. I must ask the clerk to write another letter for me, though it shames me to lay my private fears bare before another man. May the Lord keep them safe.
The roads are a misery for merchants too, Father. Tolls at every bridge and soldiers taking what they please.
the feast of St Thomas Aquinas, at Prime
Andrew has not attended mass again. He claims he takes communion in the next parish, but I fear there is a deep wound in his soul left by my predecessor. I wish to speak with him gently, but I dread the anger he carries.
My soul is my own affair, Father. The church here took enough from my family years ago.
Nota scribaeHe asked that the word 'dread' be struck out, then sighed and told me to leave it.
Candlemas, at Compline
The tithes this winter have been terribly scarce. I thank the Lord for the bishop's stipend, else the church would freeze. The women of the parish left me some pottage tonight, for which I am grateful. I pray the spring brings an easier burden for these poor souls.
Times are hard for the forge too, Father. We all make do with less.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Mark my words, Father, honest men do not wake up with prime cattle. Father Edmund would have rooted out the truth by now.