provost tallying camp rations, of Sigismund's camp
“I sit at the trestles tallying barley and sour ale for the footmen. It is dull work, but I have a knack for keeping those arses in line.”
Things Zdenyek had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St Urban, at Vespers
Thomas is hoarding his pay again. He will not shut his arse about buying out the contract of Adleta, a seamstress in Kuttenberg. I told him he is an idiot for trusting a town girl. They lock their doors to soldiers, and she would faint at the smell of his boots.
the second Tuesday in May, at None
Hynek has a brilliant way of using Havel's copper jug to short-measure the sour ale for the new recruits. We save a fair bit of the barrel for ourselves. It is a beautiful trick, and I only wish my own brain had hatched it.
I just want my jug back when you two are done cheating the boys. It has a dent in it now.
The recruits do not know the difference anyway. A smaller measure keeps them sober for the watch.
Nota scribaeThe man chuckled throughout the dictation. He smells strongly of onions.
the third day of Easter week, at Terce
William still wants his lucky bone die back. He offered me twelve groschen for it today. I told him I salvaged it from the mud after he dropped it running from a snowdrift in a blind panic. I will give it back the day he stands before the whole camp and admits his cowardice.
St Gregory's day, at Prime
Robert is lecturing me again about Martin freezing to death. The wind was howling so fiercely it tore the guide rope from my bare hands! If Walter wants to talk about panic, he can tell us why he and Daniel abandoned heavy old Lambert in the Skalitz woods.
the week of Candlemas, at Compline
Christ almighty, a blinding blizzard caught us in the open. We lost Martin in a drift. William led us straight down into a treacherous gully like a blind mule. It was not my fault the rope slipped from my hands. I swear it.
You let go out of pure cowardice. I saw it. Do not try to put Martin's death on me.
Nota scribaeHe spoke quietly and asked me to strike out the last sentence, but I had already written it in ink.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
She is a good, honest girl, Zdenyek. You only mock because no woman would ever look twice at a sour clerk with a slate.
Keep saving your pennies, lad. Maybe she can sew you some courage.