housekeeper for the hall, of Suchdol
“I work my hands raw scrubbing the master's hall from Prime to Compline. The yard is mad with shouting, but I mind my own toil.”
Things Mabel had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at None
Hugh and Roger are barking like starved dogs over a tin pitcher again. Christ almighty, the noise. If the steward caught them, they'd both be docked. And Matilda Fisher weeping over Nicholas in the gaol doesn't help my headache. I just want to wash the linens in peace.
Nota scribaeShe spoke without pausing for breath, wiping her hands on her apron.
the second Thursday after Easter, at Vespers
Alice was at me again for her copper jug. I told her plainly it is locked in the dairy and I have no time to fetch it. Maurice's counts are coming, and he will not care if a maid is tired. She can wait. My back aches too much for this.
the Friday after Easter, at Terce
I begged William to take word to Tachov to see if my brother Kubyenka is alive, and the coward refused me. The Cumans are burning the camps by Trosky, and my only kin might be dead. William cares for no one but his own skin.
I am not walking the roads to Trosky for a maid's comfort. I have work in the yard and no wish to be killed.
Nota scribaeThe word she called the young man was fouler than coward, but I will not write it.
the second Wednesday of Lent, at Prime
My hands are raw from lye, and I dropped a heavy basin on the flags this morning. Smashed to bits. If Maurice the steward sees the ledger is short before Easter wages are paid, I am ruined. I swept the shards into the muck, God forgive me.
Maurice would throw you on the road for a cracked cup. Say nothing.
Candlemas, at Vespers
The steward decreed any broken tool or lost jug comes out of our Easter wages. Silver is too scarce to lose. I borrowed a fine jug and a tool from Alice just to make my shelf look right for the count. God willing, it will tide me over.
Keep it safe for the count, but I will need the tool back for the spring cleaning.
Nota scribaeDictated near the well, where the maid had set down two heavy pails.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The man pawned my war kit, Mabel. A man has a right to shout about it.
Nicholas is a good man ruined by bad luck! You have no heart.