washer and mender of clothes, of Old Kutna
“I wash and mend to keep my affairs straight, which is more than most here can say.”
Things Margery Carter had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Terce
They are calling men for the muster again. Kurva! Why must the king's trouble bother honest women? Zdenyek was shouting in the street today for his padded jack. He left it with me to rot, and now he acts like I stole it! A Christian woman had to buy firewood.
Nota scribaeShe was waving her hands so wildly she knocked over the ink.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Isabel Porter is a liar and a fool. She stood right by the trough and said I showed her the way to Amice's house to pawn gear. God's truth, she dragged me there by the hand a month before I ever thought of it!
You bragged about the groschen you got for Zdenyek's kit before I even spoke to Matilda! Everyone heard you.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Prime
The yard is thick with these ragged people from the burned villages. A proper townsman cannot even get water at first light. And they will scrub a floor for half a groschen! How am I to earn my bread when they ruin the wages? Cecily will not stop wailing either.
If you had seen Peter you would know he is a good lad. He went to Prague, he just needs a message sent.
It is a trial, Margery. One can barely step outside without smelling the filth of them.
Nota scribaeDictated from a stool by her door. She did not stop sewing for a moment.
the eve of St Matthias, at Vespers
Lucy has been staring at the church again, crossing herself over that broken vow she made to her late mother Bozhena. I told her the Lord has bigger worries with the Cumans about, and Bozhena is out of the cold anyway. She ought to pick up a broom instead.
My mother died in the frost and I broke my promise! You have no heart, Margery.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Sext
The frost is bitter enough to snap bones, and firewood is dear. I took that heavy padded jack Zdenyek left cluttering my room and carried it to the widow Amice. She gave me enough coin to keep a fire going three weeks. A living woman matters more than dead cloth.
A clever idea. Matilda is holding some good gear for a fellow right now, perhaps I should do the same.
Nota scribaeShe spoke in a terrible rush, defensive from the start, though I had accused her of nothing.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You thieving cow, I need that jack! The Hungarians are on the roads and you sold my hide to Amice!
I kept it safe from the moth, Zdenyek! If you want it, go pay the widow her due.