maidservant at the tavern, of Suchdol
“I pour the ale, wash the clay mugs and sweep the rushes. It is an honest house and I do as I am bidden.”
Things Lettice Fisher had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at Compline
My mother counted the tallow dips this morning and the ledger was right to the penny. Praise be for her sharp eye. I only wish we had four wax candles to spare for the wayside cross. A girl has much to pray for in these hard times, but we cannot burn what we do not have.
Nota scribaeDictated in a whisper behind the cellar door.
the second Sunday after Easter, at None
Maurice the steward took the best table again today. He drank the master's best wine and left not a single groschen on the board. My hands are raw from the lye and my back aches from the casks, but it is not my place to question his thirst.
the Thursday after Easter, at Vespers
The estate hands were loud today. Hugh and Roger shouted across the room about some pawned helmet until the walls shook. I kept my head down and scrubbed the floor. It is better to look at the rushes than to catch a man's eye when he is angry over a debt.
the feast of St Benedict, at Sext
Matilda wept again today behind the barrels. I patted her shoulder and told her the Lord watches over all of us. The Kuttenberg gaol is a hard place, but perhaps Nicholas will learn to keep his fists to himself when he comes out.
He is a good man, Lettice. He only drank because of the soldiers on the road.
He is a drunkard who brings shame on the house. Dry your eyes, Matilda, and fetch the water.
Nota scribaeShe looked over her shoulder three times while saying this.
the Wednesday after Ash Wednesday, at Terce
I pray to the Holy Mother for a match that brings peace, not ruin. There is a miller's boy who smiles when he passes the tavern. But my mother says it is a fast path to poverty and forbids me to speak to him. I am a dutiful daughter, but my heart is heavy.
You are sensible, Lettice. A miller's boy has dust in his hair and no coin in his purse.
He has a kind face, Alice. That is worth more than silver.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The saints hear you well enough in the dark, Lettice. Keep your mind on the mugs and not on wax we cannot afford.
Yes, Mother. I only meant it would be a fine thing to honour the cross.