levied soldier in the army, of Sigismund's camp
“I march with the Bohemian levies and keep the bloody men in my tent from slitting each other's throats.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Frantishek is whining again about getting his share. I told him he can wait for Julian the sutler to get back from Prague, or he can take it up with the bloody quartermaster and get us both flayed. If he tries to reach into my bedroll while I sleep, I'll break his hands.
Nota scribaeThe man kept crossing his arms and glaring across the tent while speaking.
the feast of St Pancras, at Prime
The Hungarian captains have us digging new latrines in the mud again. I set Jan and Walter to the spades while I supervise. It takes twice the work to cover for that idiot Joseph running off over a pair of missing boots, but the quartermaster hasn't noticed we're a man short at muster yet.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Sat on my bedroll eating boiled oats and thinking of Peter rotting in the gaol back in Kolin. The mess scraped together the silver to pay his fine for that tavern brawl, but it vanished in the night and we had to march without him. A bloody shame, but orders are orders.
One of you took that money. When his sentence is up and he finds us, there will be hell to pay.
I didn't touch it. I only had two groschen to my name that night anyway.
Nota scribaeDictated at the edge of the camp. The man's bowl of oats smelled foul.
the feast of St Gregory, at Sext
Robert is a bloody coward and a murderer. Every time I look at him I see poor Kvyetoslav freezing to death in that ditch on the winter march. All Robert had to do was walk him back to the tent after we drank that wine, but he left him in the cold to die.
the day after Candlemas, at Compline
My feet are still frozen from the march. Standing guard on this outer perimeter is a miserable business, leaning on a spear in the freezing mud while the bloody Hungarian officers sit by their fires. At least I secured the best spot by the brazier in our tent. I earned it.
Aye, the mud here is worse than Kolin. My boots are rotting off my feet.
You complain too much, Thomas. The fire is warm enough if you stop whining.
Nota scribaeThe soldier's breath reeked of cheap wine, and he took a long time to find his words.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I found it too, Thomas. We could sell it in the lower town right now. You are just afraid of your own shadow.
I am afraid of the bloody whip, you young fool. We wait for Julian.