refugee in the yard, of Old Kutna
“I keep my head down and look for what the dogs leave. God willing, the soldiers will not find me here.”
Things Lucy had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The bells rang again and my stomach turned to stone. I know I promised the Lord I would walk barefoot to Sedletz for my life, but the roads are full of Cumans. If I leave the walls, I will end up like my mother Bozhena in the ditch.
Nota scribaeShe crossed herself four times while speaking this.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
I saw Alice Miller clutching her side again when she thought nobody was looking. I know the look of a broken body from the road. I kept my mouth shut and looked at my boots, for it is not my place to speak to a merchant's wife.
Mind your own business, beggar. There is nothing wrong with me.
the Thursday before Palm Sunday, at Sext
Found half a crust of rye bread near the wash-trough before the dogs got it. I had to scurry back to my straw because Isabel Porter was looking at me like I was the plague itself. I only want to eat.
You bring fleas to the trough. Wash yourself or stay away.
Leave her be, Isabel. A crust is nothing to grudge.
Nota scribaeDictated in a whisper.
the feast of St Gregory, at None
Cecily will not stop talking about her brother Peter going to Prague. I wish she would stop talking and start looking for cabbage leaves. Words do not fill a belly, and drawing attention only brings the soldiers.
Peter will send for me when he has coin. You will see.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
It is three winters since my mother Bozhena stopped breathing on the rutted road. The cold in this yard bites just as hard tonight. I pulled my woollen sack tight and prayed God does not strike me dead for my cowardice.
Your mother is warm in heaven now. Better there than freezing in Old Kutna.
Nota scribaeThe woman wept, but the tears were mostly dirt.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My brother Peter walked all the way to Prague and he is fine. You should just go.
Your brother is likely dead, Cecily. I am staying inside the walls.