merchant's wife, of Old Kutna
“I keep my husband's ledgers in perfect order and manage a decent household. I have no time for the vulgar noise of the yard and the people in it.”
Things Alice Miller had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Terce
I have purchased a small vial of camphor ointment from a passing man. He swore it would ease the chill. I only use it because the damp from the cellar makes my joints a little stiff. A merchant's wife must stand tall and cannot afford to slouch like the beggars.
Nota scribaeShe paid a whole silver groschen for the grease. I did not remark on the price.
the feast of the Ascension, at Sext
Isabel Porter is shouting about the widow Amice and pawned gear again. I paid her to clean the heavy iron pots so she would shut her mouth, but it did no good. If these women had a proper house to keep, they would not stand about squabbling like stray geese.
The pots are clean and you still owe me two pennies for the soot I got on my apron.
You will get your pennies when you learn to scrub without splashing the walls.
It is easy to speak of a proper house when your husband has not pledged your winter cloak.
the third day of Easter week, at None
I took my meal in the hall, sitting perfectly straight so as not to crease my skirts. Outside, Cecily was wailing about her brother Peter again, and Lucy was staring at the church. It is a wonder the Lord does not strike them for their idleness. Discipline brings prosperity.
Peter would have built a good roof for us all by now if the soldiers had not taken the road.
I made a vow to my late mother Bozhena. I must walk to Sedletz before the summer comes.
Nota scribaeShe sat very stiffly indeed while dictating this, gripping the edge of the table.
the Wednesday in the third week of Lent, at Vespers
Gilbert asked me to check the tallies from the silver traders. I sat in the counting room until the light failed. When he came in, I stood up at once to greet him. A good wife must always show her husband respect and a strong back, no matter the day.
You are a capable woman, Alice. The ledgers were perfect. I am glad you are strong, for the times are hard.
Praise be to God for the health He gives me to serve our house.
Nota scribaeShe gasped when she stood up to go, though she tried to muffle it with a cough.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Prime
The frost is bitter this morning. I rose early to see the hearth swept and the bread baked. The cold bites at my spine, reminding me of that wool cart that slipped its block on Saint Michael's day three years past. It is nothing, but I must keep moving.
I saw you wincing when you bent to check the ash. You looked like an old crone.
I was merely keeping my skirts from the cinders. Mind your own soot.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
See that you do not spend my coin on useless salves, Alice. We have grain to buy.
You reek of it all the way across the yard. It smells like a dead dog rubbed in mint.