woodworker of Suchdol, of Suchdol
“I cut the joints and plane the timber for the silver mines, and I'm the only one in this yard who focuses on the work.”
Things William Fisher had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after Trinity Sunday, at Vespers
The yard is full of good shoring timbers, ready for the carters to take to Kuttenberg. I planed the best of them myself. My father taught us to measure twice, but Hynek would rather sulk over some girl in Prague than hold a saw straight.
Nota scribaeThe speaker stood very straight while dictating this, mimicking the manner of an older man.
the Wednesday before Ascension, at None
I am eating my stew off a warped wooden trencher again today. It is wet and it tastes of old grease. My brother Richard has my good tin plate and will not give it back. I lent it to him at Easter and he refuses to return it. He says I lost it on a wager about a dog race. A dog race! It is pure spite.
You lost the wager fair and square on St Mark's day, William. Admit it before the yard and I'll consider giving the plate back.
It is a lie, Richard. You are only doing this because I laughed when your precious Beatrice was sent to the convent.
Do not speak her name to me.
the feast of St Philip and St James, at Terce
They say the price of bread in Kuttenberg has gone up again, because the soldiers on the roads take what they please. Let them. We have our trade. If a man works hard and marries a guildsman's daughter, as my father says, he need not fear ruin. But this house will be ruined if the others do not pull their weight.
The soldiers took two good horses from the miller last week. Hard work won't stop a Cuman's arrow, lad.
You shouldn't speak so proudly, William. We should pray to the saints at Sedletz to keep the war away.
Nota scribaeHe spoke loudly, making sure the rest of the household could hear.
the first day of April, at Sext
I will not speak to Adam. He is an old fool and a drunkard. He ruined a batch of expensive wood varnish that was meant for Jacob of Kolin, kicking the bucket over while he was supposed to be on watch. The silver is lost, and he tries to say I left the lye out in the rain! I demand an apology.
You left the lye out, you careless pup. I've served your father fifteen years and I won't be called a drunkard by a boy.
You smell of ale before Terce, old man. Apologise.
the Friday after Ash Wednesday, at Prime
My father forced Svatava, that baker's niece Hynek fancied, to be sent to Prague as a scullery maid. It was the right thing to do. She had no coin and would have dragged Hynek down. Now perhaps he will stop whining and learn how to cut a joint properly.
Your mother Zlata would never have let such a cruel thing happen. She had a kind heart.
My mother is dead, Alice. We must live as things are.
Nota scribaeDictated in the timber yard before work began.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
At least Svatava is worth thinking about. Your head is made of the same oak you plane all day.
Leave the boy be, William. The work is done, that is what matters.