maidservant at the farm, of Suchdol
“I only want to be a good Christian woman and keep my soul from the fire, but my debts are heavy and my hands are empty. God have mercy on me.”
Things Joan had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of St John Before the Latin Gate, at None
The priest sent word today. He says he will read my name from the pulpit on Sunday as an oath-breaker. I cannot breathe for the shame of it. I looked at the dovecote again today where Cecily hides her pennies, but my hand froze. If I steal, it is hell, but if I do not pay, what then? Holy Mother protect me.
Nota scribaeShe was biting her fingernails so fiercely I thought she might swallow her own thumb.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
My arms are dead from the churn. Master Jan wants double butter for the market and Anna watches my every move. I saw Robert the woodcutter rubbing his back again this morning. The damp gets into a man's bones, poor fellow. I wish his mother Clemence were still here to brew him that willow tea she used to make.
Aye, the damp is cruel today. My thanks for your kind thought, Joan.
the Feast of the Annunciation, at Vespers
Every time I hear the church bell I think of that preacher at Michaelmas, roaring about the flames of purgatory. Margery says our vow was madness and we should forget it, but God does not forget. We promised silver for the masses. I have not seen a single silver groschen in my life. Master Jan only gives us porridge and old tunics.
I curse the day that screaming whoreson came to Suchdol. He terrified you half to death.
You are fed and housed, girl. Be grateful you are not starving on the roads like the refugees.
Nota scribaeShe crossed herself five times while speaking these words.
the Monday before St Gregory, at Terce
Cecily is driving us mad looking down the road for Bynyek the peddler. She wants a silver clasp for her dress and talks of nothing else. Alice told her Bynyek is a cheat who sells tarnished tin, but she will not listen. I only wish I had half her worries, or half the coppers she has saved for him.
Candlemas, before Prime
The cold in the byre is bitter this morning. I fetched the cows by lantern light and Kudla the dog came to sit on my feet to keep them warm. God bless that beast. The priest stopped me after mass to ask about the silver. I told him I had nothing yet. He looked at me as if I were a thief.
I meant to say he looked at me with holy disappointment, Lord forgive me.
Nota scribaeDictated in a breathless rush before the milking.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Let him read it! The fat hypocrite only wants coin he has not earned. Do not give him a groschen.
Hush, Margery, do not make it worse for her. We will pray on it, Joan.