merchant in the army camp, of Sigismund's camp
“I sell necessities to the camp, master. A man must eat, and I keep my head down and my scales balanced.”
Things Robert Lane had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Master Baldwin's men were seen near the lower tents today. They say the levy roll is drawn up and they need spearmen. I need sixty groschen to strike my name out, but my coin is tied up in heavy winter cloaks that nobody wants in this heat. I am a merchant, friend, not a soldier. I cannot hold a spear.
Nota scribaeHe wiped his hands on his apron so fiercely I thought he would tear it.
the second day of Easter week, at None
I took another skin of spiced wine to Jan the quartermaster. He drank it down and called me his good friend, but when I asked if he would vouch for my stall, he only laughed and walked away. My late mother Klara taught me to count every penny, and I fear I have wasted good wine on a false hope.
The wine was sour, little merchant. Bring better next time if you want favours.
the Tuesday before Palm Sunday, at Terce
A Cuman rider tried to pay for a leather strap with a clipped groschen today. I do not speak their tongue, so I tapped my ledger and pointed at my brass scales until he threw down a whole coin. You cannot let them cheat you, or they will take the cart and everything in it. My lockbox stays shut.
Nota scribaeDictated from under a handcart.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
I bought a great load of winter cloaks from a man fleeing Tachov. I thought the soldiers would buy them for the night watches, but the weather has turned mild and the mercenaries only want small beer. My silver is gone into that pile of wool and it is starting to rot in the damp.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
Most folk ran for the woods when King Sigismund's army came, but a man must make his way. I took the few groschen I had buried under the hearth, bought provisions, and set up my pitch right here in the dirt. The Hungarians are fierce, but silver is the same colour everywhere. I will sleep with my arms around my ledger.
Nota scribaeThe young man looked over his shoulder four times while speaking.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The King needs men, Lane. A merchant bleeds just the same as a farmer.
I have good cheese for you, master Baldwin, and perhaps a little silver by Sunday if you wait!