soldier for the king, of Sigismund's camp
“I serve in the army, though a man barely sees a groschen for his sweat. I just do my duty and avoid the old bastards who sit on their arses.”
Things John had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the morrow of May Day, at Terce
Jan wants his flute back. I told him he can have it when he pays me for the suffering he put my ears through. He sounds like a dying goose when he blows that thing, so I took it for the peace of the tent.
Nota scribaeHe spoke quickly and kept his hands firmly tucked into his belt the entire time.
the second day of Easter week, at None
They had us hauling wood again, but I found a spot behind the wagons to check my spear instead. Let the older fools do the heavy lifting. I am not breaking my back for a bowl of boiled oats.
You lazy bastard, we had to do twice the work because you vanished.
I was on watch, you blind fool. Ask anyone.
the Wednesday before Easter, at Prime
William is still running his mouth about Peter rotting in the Kolin gaol. He claims he gave me the groschen for the fine. The bastard drank the silver himself and now tries to lay it on my head. I never touched a penny of it.
You lying little shit. I handed you that pouch myself. When Peter gets out, you are a dead man.
We should never have left Peter behind. The whole thing stinks.
Nota scribaeHe looked over his shoulder no less than four times while saying this, and his voice cracked.
the feast of St Gregory, at Vespers
Robert has the nerve to say I should have seen Kvyetoslav wander off in the cold. I was freezing my stones off on the far perimeter! Robert was the last one drinking with him. The lying bastard is just trying to pass his own guilt.
You were on watch! If you had not been sleeping in the brush, Kvyetoslav would not have frozen in that ditch.
You poured the ale down his throat, you coward!
Nota scribaeHe shrugged continually throughout, as if trying to shake a fly off his neck.
Ash Wednesday, at Sext
Walter lost Joseph's boots, and now Joseph has run off into the woods like a frightened boy. Now we all have to lie at the morning muster so the sergeant does not lash the skin off our backs. A tent full of idiots, I swear it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I lent it to you, you whoreson! Give it back before I tell the sergeant.
Keep it, John. We do not need his squeaking.