washerwoman for the monastery, of Old Kutna
“I boil altar cloths for the monks and mind my business. The Lord can judge me on my clean wools, not the chattering of fools.”
Things Mary had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The heavy wools are finally done for the season. Isolde's hands are worse today, so I took the biggest pile from her tub. She didn't say a word. That is the best way to work.
Nota scribaeDictated while she wrung out a shirt. Her hands are indeed red as a boiled crab.
the feast of St Stanislaus, at None
Eve walked past looking as proud as a peacock. She still has Elizabeth's iron-toothed carding comb. If you lend a tool in Kuttenberg, you might as well throw it in the river. She is a thief, pure and simple.
the Wednesday after Easter, at Terce
Cecily cornered me again to carry a letter to Prague for her brother Francis. I boil rags in Old Kutna. I am not walking through Cuman patrols just because she misses him. May he fall off a bridge so I can scrub in peace.
He is a baker, Mary! He could give you a fine loaf if you just took the parchment with you!
I am not going to Prague for a loaf of bread, you foolish girl.
Nota scribaeShe asked the Lord's forgiveness for the curse, but did not ask me to strike it out.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Bread is up another penny this week. They say the soldiers on the roads are eating it all. Let them choke on it. At least the lye keeps my hands too cracked and numb to feel the cold down here.
Aye, my husband says the garrison takes everything first. We will all be eating bark before Whitsun.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
Matilda lent me her copper kettle to use for the altar cloths. A copper pot does not crack in the fire. She is too young to know how to scour with it anyway and would only ruin it. I will keep it safe until the monks' work slows down.
I scrubbed floors for a month to buy that kettle! Give it back, Mary!
If she wants another, she can bring me some silver. I have pots to spare.
Nota scribaeShe glared at a young woman across the cellar as she said this.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My mother Mabel always said the work must be done, no matter the pain. But I saw what you did.