collier at the sawmill, of The woodcutters' camps
“I tend the charcoal kilns while my brothers and uncles shout. I am saving every penny to learn a quiet trade and wash the soot from my hands.”
Things Joseph had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
I checked the board by my cot twice today. With Paul stealing Andrew's nails, nobody's hands are clean here. I only need forty more groschen for the cobbler's fee, but if they find my stash they will drink it all away at the alehouse.
Nota scribaeHe spoke softly and looked at his feet the entire time.
the Tuesday after St Mark, at Sext
Father was counting the strongbox late again. He tells us Michael the clerk pays us nothing for the charcoal, but I know the royal tally. Bread is up another penny this week. Someone is keeping the difference, but it is not me.
You watch your tongue, boy, and tend your fires. You know nothing of the king's coin.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Uncle Jezhek and Uncle Standa are shouting about the scrub pine on the northern ridge again. They say old Lambert promised it to them before he took the winter fever. It is just rocks and poor soil. I would rather have clean hands than a rocky hill.
Your grandfather knew the value of that timber! Show some respect to his memory.
Nota scribaeDictated while washing soot from his arms.
the feast of St Gertrude, at Prime
I went into the woods for kindling and left a wild flower at the wayside cross for my mother Johanka. I was born the very day she passed. I hope she does not hold it against me up in heaven. Hynek gave me a crust of bread when I got back.
She was the only one who could calm father's temper. We all miss her.
the Monday after Candlemas, at Terce
The smoke is thick today. The wind blows right down into the kilns and the grey ash gets in my eyes. I hate the smell of it. The uncles are off felling timber, making a racket. I just want to sit in quiet.
Keep your head down, lad. I will keep an eye on the road for the bailiff's men.
Nota scribaeThe boy coughed ash onto the parchment.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I took those nails because he owed me! And what are you hiding up there anyway?
Leave the lad be, Paul. He is no thief.