head maidservant at william's farm, of Suchdol
“I keep this household running so the master does not eat raw oats. Christ Almighty, nobody else will.”
Things Matilda had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Bread costs more than it did last year, and they say the soldiers on the roads are to blame. William is counting every grain in the storehouse. I had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to make porridge tonight. Lord above, if the master cuts the rations again, the boys will be too weak to swing a scythe.
Nota scribaeDictated while she was scrubbing a pot. She splashed lye water on my boots.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
The spring ploughing is breaking our backs. Frantishek is wincing again with every heave, the poor lad. I saw Roger take the heavy yoke from him before William could notice his crooked arm. I am brewing a strong willow bark tea for the pain, provided I can find a decent pot to boil it in.
You have a good heart, Matilda. The boy just needs a bit of rest.
I can pull my weight. Do not tell the master.
the feast of St Gregory, at None
Christ Almighty, that miserly old badger John refuses to give back my grandmother's copper jug. I told him I need it for the spring brewing. I know I owe him the ten groschen for paying off Julian's steward, but it was a friendly pledge! He sleeps with the jug in his bedding like a hoarder.
A pledge is a pledge. Bring me the ten groschen and you will get your copper back.
You have a heart of stone, old man. Rosa would be ashamed of you.
Do not speak of my wife. Bring the coin.
Nota scribaeShe shouted the entire time. The farm dog was barking as well.
the Thursday after St Matthias, at Terce
Edith is weeping into the flour again about her broken vow. She thinks she will be struck down because we have no time to walk to Sedletz. I do half her chores so she can pray, but the girl is terrified. Heaven knows the Lord has more to worry about than one frightened maidservant's sweating sickness.
Candlemas, at Prime
That tyrant Julian sent his steward to the gate again. Butcher dug under the palisade and got at his precious fowl, and now the merchant wants silver or he will fetch the bailiff to have the dog killed. I had to beg old John for the coin to save the poor beast. Lord above, I am exhausted.
I gave you the coin because Julian is a hard man, but I hold the jug.
Julian has enough silver to buy a hundred birds. It is pure spite.
Nota scribaeDictated in the yard. She wiped her hands on her apron before speaking.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Do not waste good grain, Matilda. I am not made of silver.
Then buy more grain, master, or watch the work stop.