farmer at the estate, of Suchdol
“I plough stones all day and come back to a yard full of thieves. I just want what is mine.”
Things Roger had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The muster is coming soon, and if I show up without Adam's gambeson, the captain will flay the skin from my back. Hugh still has not redeemed the kit from Juliana in Kuttenberg. Until he does, his tin pitcher stays locked safe in my chest.
Nota scribaeDictated with much angry waving of dirt-stained hands.
the morrow of St Philip and St James, at Compline
Tomorrow is Thursday, and half the yard is sweating blood over the steward's tallies. Maurice sits in Prague counting our pennies while everyone here borrows pots just to make their shelves look full. Alice is still demanding that copper jug back from Mabel.
the Tuesday after Easter, at None
My back is near breaking from turning the stones in the north field. Went for a thin ale at the tavern to ease it. Matilda is weeping again because Nicholas the carter is rotting in the Kuttenberg gaol for brawling. Good riddance, less noise in the taproom.
He is a good man ruined by bad luck, you heartless sod.
You dirt farmers have no sympathy for anyone else's misery.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted by a long draught of ale.
the feast of St Gregory, at Sext
Word is Mabel's brother Kubyenka was sent near Trosky with the baggage train. A lucky fool, that boy. Better to face the roads than Maurice's ledger on a Thursday. At least levied men get fed.
Do not say such things. I pray to the Virgin he is safe.
Candlemas, at Prime
Christ almighty. Maurice decreed any broken tool comes out of our wages. I tried to do a good turn and lent Adam's war gear to Hugh so he would not be flogged. The treacherous whoreson pawned it! Now Adam is chasing me for the debt.
I did not lend it to Hugh, I lent it to you. Get it back.
I had debts to pay! Juliana gave a fair price for it.
Nota scribaeThe man shouted so loudly my inkwell shook.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Give me the pitcher, Roger! I only lent it to you for Shrove Tuesday!
Pay the pawnbroker first, you treacherous whoreson.
I just want my war kit back before the captain sees my bare shoulders.