farmhand at Dum five, of Suchdol
“I do an honest day's work and keep the Lord's commandments as best I can. I just ask for my daily bread and a quiet corner to pray.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Compline
The priest says my name will be read before the whole parish tomorrow if my arrears are not paid. I have no silver. Master Jan has still not paid my wages. I may have to sell my heavy boots, though my feet will bleed in the fields.
Nota scribaeHe spoke so quietly I had to ask him to repeat it thrice.
the feast of St Pancras, at Vespers
John makes a mockery of the saints again today. He said things about the Blessed Virgin that make my blood run cold. I know he is bound for the fires of hell, but I pray the Lord does not strike the barn with lightning while I sleep in it.
the second Tuesday after Easter, at None
I saw mistress Anna wincing again while lifting the heavy iron pot from the hearth. She was rubbing her crooked hand in the barn later, crying. Poor Bozhena set it badly years ago. I pity her, but a farmhand does not speak of the master's wife.
You see too much, Thomas. Mind your fences and say nothing to Jan.
Nota scribaeDictated in the churchyard. He kept rubbing a wooden cross at his neck.
Maundy Thursday, at Prime
Peshek the clerk cornered me by the churchyard this morning before he left for Prague. He threatened to have me shunned if I do not pay the church dues. I begged him for time, but he has no mercy. I only hope master Jan pays us for Easter.
Peshek is a grasping whoreson. Good riddance he went to Prague.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Sext
The ground is frozen hard. I spent the morning hammering stakes to mend the property line. Master Jan shouted at me for dropping a rail. I work as fast as I can, but my hands were numb with the cold. I pray for an early spring.
Stop your whining and hold the rail properly next time. The sheep will get out.
Nota scribaeHe trembled throughout the dictation.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Sell the boots, coward! Maybe the saints will give you new ones if you pray hard enough. Heh heh.
We could still run for it, Thomas. Leave the boots, leave the debts.
I cannot break my oath to the master, Jezhek. The Lord would know.