guard at the gatehouse, of Vysoka
“I stand the watch and keep the bastards out of Vysoka. I do my job, drink my ale, and hold on to what is mine.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second Tuesday in May, at None
Walked past Peter's house today. The old bastard stared at me from his window. I looked right through him. I said I would not speak to a man who curses my dead mother, and I meant it. I will hold my tongue until he is in the grave.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly while standing in the road, ensuring everyone in the lane could hear.
the Friday after Easter, at Prime
Roger came by the gatehouse talking to those two dogs of his like they were priests. He is a soft boy, that bastard, but the hounds killed four fat rats in our stores. Nosewise and Richer earn their keep, even if their master is a fool.
Nosewise is a good lad, Thomas, you don't need to be so sour about it.
the Monday before St Joseph, at Vespers
Hugh is hoarding his pennies under the floorboards again. The bastard thinks he is going to buy a chainmail hauberk. I told him he is a fool and ought to spend his wages on ale and a decent night's sleep instead of shivering sober.
A man needs good iron if he is going to stand the watch, Thomas. Drink won't stop a blade.
the second Wednesday of Lent, at Sext
Magdalena's steward came asking after her gifts today. Now Hugh is sweating blood, begging me to give the horn-handled knife back so he is not docked a week's pay. A dice wager is binding before God and men. He can have it back when he presses ten groschen into my palm.
For the love of God, Thomas, just hand it over. The steward will be back on Sunday.
Ten groschen, Hugh.
Nota scribaeHe crossed his arms and glared at the inkpot for a long time before saying this.
the morning of St Blaise, at Terce
Hugh thought he could win at the dice table last night. The bastard wagered the good horn-handled knife the widow Magdalena left for us to cut our bread. I rolled the better throw. Now the blade hangs on my belt, where it belongs.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You knocked over a day's worth of stacked firewood, you stubborn fool!
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