guard at the fortress, of Suchdol
“I am a guard at the fortress. I stand my watch, keep a clear head, and pray the Lord has mercy on us all.”
Things Bartholomew had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Friday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The spring is nearly gone and still I have not walked barefoot to Sedletz. The roads are thick with Hungarian soldiers, but I know the Lord is watching. I cross myself and feel the weight of it. Tobias swore the exact same oath in the snow, but he is too fearful to make the walk alone.
Nota scribaeHe stared at his boots for a long time before speaking this. He refused to look up.
the feast of Saint Pancras, at None
Maresh is still whining about the carved bone die I won from him weeks ago. A man who wagers his luck and loses it must live with an empty pouch. I sit by the hearth in peace, but he will not stop his noise about how he cannot win without it.
the Thursday after Easter, at Prime
Reginald and Standa were shouting again over how Jarda fell in the snow last winter. I will take no side in it. I crossed myself and prayed for Jarda's soul. May he rest in peace. All this shouting in the courtyard will not bring a slain man back from the grave.
He would be alive today if some among us had not played the coward.
He broke formation! It was his own foolish doing that got him shot.
Nota scribaeDictated in the courtyard while the shouting could still be heard from the barracks.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Terce
I stood the morning watch at the gate. The air is still bitter cold. I saw Ralph shaking again this morning. The drink is taking him, sure as the fever took the men last year. I pity the lad, but a man must keep his wits clear on the wall.
It is just the morning chill, Bartholomew. A cup of ale warms the blood.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
We were eating salted pork in the mess and thinking on the winter patrol last year along the Sazava. I survived the bloody flux by the grace of God, but Ernest died shivering on the frozen riverbank. He taught us all to hold a spear. May the angels keep him.
Captain Thomas Black's ruthless marching killed him. Ernest deserved better than to die in the frozen mud.
Nota scribaeThe man crossed himself three times during the telling and asked that I do the same.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The soldiers will slit our throats before we reach the abbey, Bartholomew. God understands why we wait.
God understands a broken vow, Tobias. That is exactly what frightens me.