tallying salt and dried fish, of Old Kutna
“I am waiting for my own life to begin, if I can just find someone to speak for me.”
Things Paul Seiler had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
James is coughing worse in the outbuilding. The damp straw is doing his throat no good. I wish I had a groschen to buy him roasted apples, but father keeps the strongbox shut tight. Upon my word, a little mercy would not ruin the trade.
Nota scribaeHe wrung his hands the entire time he spoke.
the second day of May, at None
If any respected burgher or priest reads this book, I beg you to speak with Jezhek Clark. I am a man grown and I will marry who I please. She scrubs pots, ay, but she is worth ten merchants' daughters from Kolin.
You will marry who I tell you, or you will starve on the road. Do not shame us in this book.
the Tuesday of Easter week, at Terce
The bells rang beautifully for Easter, though I lost my place in the ledger again trying to count the salt sacks. Father shouted, but my mind was down at the masons' yard.
If you looked at the ledger instead of brushing your sleeves, we might all get paid.
Nota scribaeThe boy's tunic was immaculate, though he smelled strongly of herring.
the first Monday in Lent, at Prime
Ralph and father are at it again over the broken wheel hub from Saint Martin's day. Forty groschen is a heavy loss, but keeping a man's bone comb as a pledge seems a miserable way to live.
It is my only comb and the lice are having a feast on my scalp.
Candlemas, at Sext
I prayed for my mother Margaret at the church today. It has been ten winters since the fever took her. I hardly remember her face, but they say she had a stubborn streak. I hope she looks down and sees I have it too.
Your mother was a good, obedient woman. She would weep to see you chasing beggars in the lower town.
Nota scribaeDictated after morning mass. He rubbed his thumbs together nervously.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep your apples, lad. The damp will take me soon enough, and then I will be warm.