sawyer at the sawmill, of The woodcutters' camps
“I work the main saw and break my back for this family while my brothers try to rob me.”
Things Jezhek Porter had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Monday before Ascension, at None
Lawrence says the clerk Michael wants another twenty loads of beech by the end of the week. Let Michael come swing the axe himself. Saint Barbara knows I have the widest shoulders here, but I cannot fell a forest alone.
Nota scribaeDictated at the woodpile. The man shouted the entire time and poked me in the chest twice.
the feast of St Pancras, at Sext
Caught Standa eyeing the boundary stones on the northern ridge again. I swear by Saint Barbara, if he moves so much as a pebble on the far strip, I will break his legs. Lambert gave it to me.
The fever had our father blind, you idiot. He was pointing at me, clear as day.
He looked right into my eyes, you thief!
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
My back aches from yesterday's shift. Ralph is quiet enough on the other end of the saw, but he keeps taking his meal down by my patch of scrub pine. I told him to stay clear of my brush.
I only wanted to eat my pottage in peace away from the sawdust, brother.
Nota scribaeHe made a great show of displaying the blisters on his palms while speaking.
the second Sunday of Lent, at Vespers
The bread is dearer again, and all Lawrence does is pocket the groschen while we eat sawdust. We would do better selling firewood in Kuttenberg than slaving for the king's mint. A pox on these royal quotas.
I would gladly take a turn hauling to town, uncle, if it gets us better bread.
Hold your tongue and mind your wedge. You know nothing of what things cost.
the morning of Candlemas, at Terce
Cleared more brush on the far strip before the frost melted. My father Lambert gave me this scrub four winters past on his deathbed, and I will see it yield good charcoal before I die, no matter who cries about it.
You clear my land for me, brother. Very kind of you.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted thrice by coughing fits.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep pulling the saw, Jezhek, or Michael will see us all turned out to starve.
My hands are bleeding too, uncle.