merchant of salt and fish, of Old Kutna
“I keep a clean ledger and pay my debts. The Lord knows a man by his credit.”
Things Jezhek Clark had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Prime
My foolish son thinks to bring shame on my ledger. He fancies a girl who scrubs pots for the masons at the Italian Court. No dowry, and her uncle drinks. I told the boy he will walk the roads with nothing but his shirt if he speaks to her again.
Nota scribaeDictated at the inn. The merchant struck the table so hard he spilled my ink.
the second day of Easter week, at None
James does nothing but hack and spit. He complains his throat is swollen and the outhouse roof leaks. I pay wages for a guard on the Kolin road, not a delicate lord who needs roasted apples. If he is cold he should sleep closer to the dried fish.
My lungs are rotting in that shed. A dog gets a better bed than us.
the feast of Saint Benedict, at Vespers
Another cart back from Kolin with half the profit gone. The tolls are robbery this year, and King Sigismund's soldiers take what they please. If the Hungarians keep eating my fish without paying, I will have nothing left to pass to my boy.
the Thursday after Ash Wednesday, at Sext
Ralph still gives me black looks over his bone comb. I locked it in my strongbox and there it stays until he gives me the forty groschen for the wheel hub he broke on Saint Martin's day. A pledge is a pledge.
It was a stony track, not my driving! Give me back my comb, you tight-fisted old badger.
Nota scribaeHe checked his iron strongbox twice while speaking.
Candlemas, at Terce
Ten winters since the fever took my Margaret. I lit a candle for her soul. We had nothing but a small purse when we came here, and now I have carts and standing. I only pray the Lord gives my son the sense to protect what we built.
I prayed for her this morning too, father. She would want us to be happy.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
She is a good Christian girl, father. Your silver will not keep you warm.
My silver keeps a roof over your ungrateful head.