townsman doing odd jobs, of Old Kutna
“I do honest work around the square keeping things tidy, though it is hard keeping the mud off my boots. Just trying to mind my business and stay out of trouble.”
Things Anthony Field had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Ascension, at Vespers
God's wounds, someone tell me if Martha Silver is looking for me at the guests tavern. Do not speak to her, just look! I owe her for three weeks of ale and lodging, and if she calls the town watch on me, I will end up in the pillory.
Nota scribaeThe man kept looking over his shoulder while dictating this. He smells of damp wool.
the second Tuesday after Easter, at Terce
Edward the pawnbroker is locked in the gaol for receiving stolen chalices. God have mercy on him, but what about the gear I left with him? I pawned the padded jack and iron cap Father Gregory helped me buy, just so I could eat. How do I get them back?
Anthony, you pawned the armour? The silver was a loan for your protection, not for the alehouse!
I was starving, Father! Chenyek locked the gates and I had no groschen for bread!
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
Chenyek is a bastard. He locked the gates at the smelting works and froze the spring wages, and now none of us have a groschen to our names. I am too quiet to shout with the others, but I am hungry enough to chew my own boots.
Aye, the whoreson is starving us all. We should break the gates down.
Keep your voice down back there, Anthony, you will scare off the buyers.
Nota scribaeDictated behind Gilbert Miller's stall. The man ate a crust of hard bread the whole time.
the first Friday of Lent, at None
Godfrey Grey will not leave me be. Every time I sweep near him, he pesters me to carry word to Rosa in Prague. I am a townsman of Kutna, not a wandering messenger! I have no intention of walking all that way.
It is a simple errand for a young man with sturdy legs! She needs to hear the family news.
the day after Candlemas, at Prime
The bailiff has called a muster for the feast of Saint John the Baptist. We all need a padded jack and an iron cap. Praise be to Father Gregory, who advanced me the silver. I bought a fine kit. I will pay him back when the spring wages come.
See that you keep it clean, Anthony, and stay out of the mud.
Heavy iron on the head is bad for the neck. Trust me.
Nota scribaeHe asked me to write that it was a fine kit, though the padded jack was patched in three places.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You cowardly whoreson! I do not need the watch, I will wring your scrawny neck myself!
Come sleep in the mud with the rest of us, Anthony. It is free.