hired hand at the camp, of Nomad camp
“I haul the water, muck the stalls and load the wagons for the merchants who come through. I keep my head down and do the work.”
Things Nicholas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Saw another column of mercenaries on the road today. Ernest gave them a look like he wanted to fight the lot of them with his bare hands. I had to cuff him on the ear. A working man has no business in the quarrels of kings. They'd gut him and not even stop to wipe the blade.
Nota scribaeThe man was looking over his shoulder toward the road the whole time he spoke.
the eve of the Ascension, at Prime
The camp is muddy today and my back aches from lifting sacks of grain since first light. The masters sleep in while we trudge through the horse dung. At least Alice left some decent pottage in the pot. I sat on my bucket and ate it, grateful for the warmth.
There's more in the pot if you need it tonight, Nicholas. You look half starved.
the Tuesday after Saint George's Day, at None
I have spent all my rest hours walking the edge of the camp, staring at the dirt. The bronze clasp is still lost. It slipped right from my collar. Now I use this sliver of wood to hold my cloak shut. It is not the same. It is not the same at all.
Nicholas, please. Just go to the market and buy a cheap bone pin for a penny. You will make yourself sick pacing in the cold.
A bone pin is not what I lost, Alice. You mean well, but you don't understand.
Nota scribaeHe kept touching a wooden pin on his collar while dictating.
Saint George's Day, at Sext
I have lost the clasp from my cloak. The bronze one Beatrice made me. I must have dropped it somewhere between the stalls and the grain wagons. If anyone finds it in the mud, I beg you, give it back. It is the only thing I have.
I'll help you look tomorrow, Nicholas. I promise. We'll check by the troughs.
the second week of Lent, at Compline
Ernest will not stop talking about those fifty-groschen riding boots that Andrew the Kuttenberg cobbler is selling. The boy thinks a pair of boots will change his life. I told him Andrew is robbing him blind for a bit of cured leather, but he won't listen. Fifty groschen! It would take us years to save that.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I wasn't going to fight them. I was just looking at their boots. Better than the ones Andrew is trying to sell me.
Keep your eyes on the dirt, Ernest, like Nicholas says. There's no good to be found staring at soldiers.