apprentice to the blacksmith, of Suchdol
“I strike the iron for Master John. It makes a man strong, though I pray sickness stays away.”
Things Robert had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after Whitsun, at Vespers
Master John's grip was stiff again this morning. I had to swing the heavy hammer for two hours straight on the mine brackets. My arms are thick as logs now, but I do not mind the ache if the mining foremen keep bringing us silver groschen.
Nota scribaeThe boy wiped black soot onto his apron no less than four times while dictating.
the second day of Easter week, at Sext
I saw Matilda carrying laundry across the yard today and my chest grew tight. The roads are still choked with Hungarian mercenaries, making the walk to Sedletz too dangerous. But I fear the Lord will not wait forever for us to make our barefoot journey.
We must go soon, Robert. I cannot sleep for fear the fever will return to punish us for our broken vow.
There are soldiers on the road and picks to sharpen here. Say your prayers at the wayside cross instead.
Nota scribaeHe touched his chest and crossed himself fearfully when speaking of the journey.
the eve of St George, at None
William and Richard Fisher were shouting over a tin plate again today. I kept my head down and swept the cold ash from the hearth. Master Thomas is a grim man and I want no part of his household's bitter quarrels.
Tell my whoreson brother to give it back! It is mine!
Mind your own bellows, boy, and stay out of our yard.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Terce
The coals were damp this morning and the bellows heavy to pump. A carter said bread is dearer in Kuttenberg because of the King's brother and his army. I am glad to have my loft and a master who makes sure I am fed.
Aye, everything is dearer now. The soldiers take what they want.
Candlemas, at Prime
The winter cold is hard on Master's bones. I do the heavy striking so the work is done before the sun sets. I cross myself every morning and pray the sweating sickness does not come back to Suchdol with the spring.
God preserve us from the fever. Last autumn was a cursed time.
Nota scribaeHe stammered slightly when he first sat down to speak, and crossed himself twice.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You did well today, lad. Keep your voice down about my grip, though.