maidservant at the fisher household, of Suchdol
“I keep four men fed and try to stop them killing each other. It takes all the hours God sends.”
Things Matilda had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Monday after Ascension, at Vespers
The dogs barked all night, and I lay awake fearing the sweating sickness is coming back for us. A promise to the Lord is not a thing to leave undone, but the roads are full of soldiers, and Sedletz is a long way for a maid on foot. God help me.
Nota scribaeShe wept a little when dictating this, but wiped her face on her apron when the smith walked past.
the second day of Rogation days, at None
Alice is crying in the corner again over a wooden bird, and William and Adam are shouting over spoilt varnish. If I did not put hot oats in front of them, they would starve. Sometimes I think my mother Zlata had the right idea in dying.
It was not the varnish, it was that old fool Adam. And hold your tongue about Mother.
My knees ache too much for this nonsense. And I know you stole my bone die, William.
I am sorry, Matilda. I will help with the trenchers soon.
the third day of Easter week, at Terce
Father was roaring at Hynek before the sun was even up. Svatava is gone, and shouting about it will not bring her back from Prague. I sent Hynek out to the timber yard just to have some peace to sweep the sawdust.
He needs to forget that penniless girl and do his work. I am master of this house.
You do not understand, either of you. Svatava was all I had.
Nota scribaeDictated while scrubbing a trencher so hard I feared it would break.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at Sext
I took bread out to the yard and stood by the smithy for a while. The hammering is loud, but John Polner and Robert just work. They don't bicker like my brothers. It is the only honest noise in this whole village.
Iron doesn't argue back, Matilda. You're welcome to stand by the forge anytime you need a rest from your father's yelling.
We wouldn't bicker if there was anything left in this world worth smiling about.
the day after Ash Wednesday, at Prime
The bread is dearer again. Father says it is the King's brother and his Hungarians ruining the country, but Father says everything is ruining the country. I patched Richard's tunic today. He looked at it as if he wished it were his shroud.
If Sigismund's dogs didn't steal everything they saw, we'd have cheaper flour. Mark my words.
A shroud would be quieter. At least in the grave I wouldn't have to listen to William.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I have not forgotten our vow either, Matilda. But the roads are no place for us right now. The Lord understands.