hired hand at the estate, of Suchdol
“I do the heavy lifting in the yard and keep my head down.”
Things Richard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second day of May, at Vespers
Cecily caught my sleeve again by the kitchen to ask if I would carry a message to her kin. I told her for the dozenth time I am not going anywhere near them. I am going to Prague when the time is right, nowhere else. I wish she would stop causing a scene.
Nota scribaeHe picked at the calluses on his palms the entire time he spoke.
the third day of Easter week, at None
I asked Simon to speak to the merchants on the road, just to pass word to Prague that I am alive and working at the Dum. He flatly refused and told me to hold my tongue. I cannot understand why a man would be so stubborn about a simple piece of Christian charity.
Your brother is dead in a ditch or rotting in a gaol by now. Stop asking me to chase ghosts.
He is a great success, and he will send for me when he is settled.
Nota scribaeDictated in the yard. The man spoke slowly and stared at the dirt.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Prime
I spent the morning hauling heavy ale barrels down into Rosa Fisher's cellar. It is back-breaking work, but honest. The other hands are already shouting in the taproom, drinking away their wages. I threw my meal of hard bread by the stables and put my coin in my pouch.
You could buy a single cup of small beer, Richard. The dust in your throat must be thick.
Let him be, Rosa, he likes the taste of his own miserable company better than ale.
the first week of Lent, at Compline
Emma was weeping today for her uncle Standa. He fled to Moravia when her village burned, just as I fled mine. She is the only one in this house who truly understands what it means to lose your blood to the roads. The rest of them know nothing of it.
Candlemas, at Terce
More soldiers on the roads today. They just take what they want. It makes a man glad he has only a pouch of groschen hidden away and a dry loft to sleep in. Martin went to Prague three years ago to find a better trade. I hope the soldiers did not trouble him on the way.
I am staying out of sight. A clerk named David was taking names for the levy in the winter.
You are afraid of a man with a quill, John. But the soldiers are a real plague.
Nota scribaeHe muttered a curse about the mud before deciding what to say.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It would not hurt your legs to walk a little out of your way for a woman's peace of mind.
My legs are too tired from hauling the steward's grain.