maidservant in Old Kutna, of Old Kutna
“I do the work of three women while the rest of this village sleeps. Lord's wounds, a girl has to keep her eyes open to get by.”
Things Christine had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at None
Lord's wounds, where does a miser like Andrew find the coin for a prime cow? He never goes to mass, and the woods are full of bandits. I told the women at the well, a beast like that does not come from honest labor.
Nota scribaeShe looked around the room three times before speaking and pointed with her chin.
the second day of May, at Prime
Father Gregory preaches softly, but soft words do not keep sinners from the fire. Father Edmund knew better. Three winters he has been in the ground, God rest him, but he chased Hedvika out for her sins. Now they just let them get away with murder.
The Lord guides us with a shepherd's crook, not a blacksmith's hammer. Father Edmund's way left too many broken souls.
And now the sinners sit next to us in the pews, Father.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Sext
I asked Cecily to take word to my kin on the road, just to say I am still breathing. She looked right through me. These refugees want bread and charity, but ask a simple favor and they go deaf.
I do not know your kin, nor which way they went, and I have my own feet to worry about.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted by a fit of coughing from the flax dust.
the third Sunday in Lent, at Terce
Beating flax since the first bell. I do the work of three women, sweeping and scrubbing before the master even stirs. The dust fills my throat so I can barely speak, yet nobody else lifts a finger in this yard.
It is a hard season for us all, Christine. God sees your labor.
the day after Candlemas, at Vespers
I lent my best scutching knife to Elizabeth yesterday, and she still claims she has more flax to work. Lord's wounds, that tool cost me a month of wages! I suppose I must beat the stems with my bare hands.
I told you I am not finished. The master brought a new bundle this morning. You will have it by Sunday.
Sunday will be too late for my own master's temper, Elizabeth.
Nota scribaeShe spent a long time describing the knife.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Hold your wicked tongue, you nosy busybody. I worked my fingers to the bone for that cow, no thanks to your gossip.
Christine, bearing false witness against your neighbor is a heavy sin. Come to confession.