collier, of The woodcutters' camps
“I burn the wood and mind my own business. I want no trouble and no strangers asking after my name.”
Things Hynek had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after the feast of Saints Philip and James, at Vespers
I heard hoofbeats on the Kuttenberg road today before midday. Two riders. I hid in the scrub pine until None. If they were looking for men for the Hungarian pikes, they did not find me. I will not die in the mud for any king.
Nota scribaeHe spoke this very softly, glancing out of the window the whole time.
the third day of Easter week, at Compline
Uncle Jezhek and Uncle Standa have been shouting since Terce over that same cursed patch of dirt grandfather Lambert left them. Four years of screaming. They're going to draw the bailiff's men right to us. I wish they'd both choke on it.
Mind your tongue, boy. That land is mine by right, and I won't let Standa steal it while I still draw breath.
Yours? You lying whoreson, Lambert promised it to me on his deathbed!
Both of you shut your mouths before I shut them for you. The boy is right, the noise is too much.
the Tuesday before Palm Sunday, at None
The smoke is thick today, but it keeps the flies off. Joseph and I pulled a good yield from the lower kiln. He works hard, the lad does, and stays quiet. Not like the rest of this camp.
Thanks for the extra bread yesterday, Hynek. The heat makes a man hungry.
the second Friday of Lent, at Prime
Paul is pacing the yard again, raving about that girl Mary in Kuttenberg. He stole Andrew's nails for a pledge and now Andrew is furious. I told them to keep it down. The watchman in town said the camp must provide a man for the levy, and they are begging to be noticed.
Keep Mary's name out of your mouth, Hynek. Andrew owes me for Lent, and I'll take what's mine to buy her that chest.
Give me back my nails, you thief, or I'll break your jaw!
Nota scribaeThe man was shaking and kept rubbing ash into his tunic hem.
Candlemas, at Sext
Father went to the Italian Court to see Michael about the timber prices. He says the quotas are up again. Means more days out in the open by the road. I'd rather be deep in the brush chopping scrub pine, where nobody can see me.
Do as you're told and mind the kilns, Hynek. The clerk sets the price, we do the work. No complaining.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Stop your whining, Hynek. If they call you, you go. It's the law, not a choice.
Easy for you to say when it's my name the bailiff knows. Mind your own business and pay Paul what you owe him.