scrubber and mender, of Old Kutna
“I'm a scrubber and mender for the townsmen and the garrison. I do honest work and can get a shirt whiter than anyone else on this street, but things are a bit tight right now.”
Things Matilda had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Monday after Whitsun, at Compline
Christ almighty, I cannot sleep for the worry. The muster is coming and I saw Isabel Porter asking after me in the market. I had to duck behind a cart so she wouldn't see me. If someone doesn't talk to Christopher and get that gambeson out of his locked house, the bailiff will have my hide.
Nota scribaeDictated in a rush in the cellar. The woman was biting her lip until it bled.
the feast of the Ascension, at Vespers
Elizabeth is a complete idiot. She lent her iron-toothed carding comb to Eve and now she's crying that she can't work. Having a soft heart in Old Kutna only leads to ruin. If you lend a tool, you might as well throw it in the river. Not that I'd know anything about that.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Still waiting for a free tub. If Mary would just give me my heavy copper boiling kettle back, I wouldn't have to wait until midday to find a spot. I bought that kettle with a month of scrubbing floors. It's a fine tool, and I lent it in a moment of weakness because of the frost.
The monks at Sedletz need their linens boiled, Matilda. I'm using it every day. You'll get it when the monks are clean.
It's my kettle! I can't earn a wage standing around waiting for leftovers!
Nota scribaeShe paced the street while speaking, constantly looking over her shoulder.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Sext
The bread is dearer again today. They say the Hungarian soldiers are eating it all up on the roads. I scrubbed my hands cracked and red from the lye just to buy a half-loaf. I asked Christopher for a fair price on a pledge, but that grasping miser wouldn't open his barred window for a commoner.
Mabel always said a complaining scrubber goes hungry. Keep working, the pain in your hands passes.
the feast of St Blaise, at Prime
The frost hit hard and coal prices are bloody ruinous. We had to pool our pennies just to boil water. I was freezing in the cellar. I had to do something to buy coal to survive the freeze, so I pledged a heavy linen gambeson I was meant to mend. Just for twelve groschen. I'll redeem it by Easter, God willing.
The cold is terrible. Francis says the winters in Prague are milder, but he hasn't sent for me.
Nota scribaeThe woman swore profusely before I reminded her of the record.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I saw you behind that cart, Matilda. I need the gear by Sunday. The soldiers don't wait on your mending.
It is nearly done, mistress! Just a stubborn stain taking the last of my lye. You shall have it.
Bring twelve groschen to the window. Not eleven. Twelve. Until then, the wool stays dry.