woodcutter for the mint, of The woodcutters' camps
“Christ's wounds, I cut the brush and haul timber for the mint. I mind my own business, which is more than others here do.”
Things Andreas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St George, at Vespers
Christ's wounds, it has rained for three days straight. My shoulders ache from hauling wet timber. Maurice keeps eyeing my boots from across the fire. I told him a hundred times, Stislav traded them to me fair and square for sour wine. A man has to keep his feet warm.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted thrice by the man spitting onto my shoes.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
Christ's wounds, even at Easter the food is grit and the ale is half water. Avice sends us piss from Kolin and expects good groschen for it. If I wasn't afraid of the bailiff's whip, I would walk to a real tavern right now.
She won't send better until our slate is wiped. Have you got silver to pay her?
the Friday after St Benedict, at Prime
Hugh the Great is a violent madman looking for a fight. He is shouting again that I broke old Stislav's back by making him haul that cart axle on the march. Christ's wounds, Stislav volunteered to prove he was still fit! I only stood back and let him.
You pushed it onto him so you wouldn't have to ruin your own soft hands, you whoreson.
the feast of St Thomas Aquinas, at None
My palms are nothing but burst blisters. Swinging a broad axe in the thick woods all morning is heavy work, but the royal bailiff demands his charcoal. I only care about surviving until dusk.
My brother Tobias lifts stone all day in Prague and never complains this much.
We are all tired of hearing about your brother, Frantishek.
Nota scribaeHe showed me his palms. They were indeed foul.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Christ's wounds, it is freezing tonight. It reminds me of that miserable march two winters ago. Half the men caught a chill, but I survived it because I know how to look after myself. The elders hate me because I am young and they are dying out.
You survived because you are a rat. We all know what happened on the road.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
A dying man doesn't trade good leather for a mouthful of vinegar, you little shit.
He was thirsty, old man. Mind your own.