archer in the camp, of Sigismund's camp
“I am an archer levied with promises of good silver, but all I see is hard labour, boiled oats, and thieving misers. I only ask for what is rightfully mine.”
Things Jan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
John is an arrogant lout and a miser. He has kept my wooden flute since the May fires. Without it, I cannot play my tunes on watch, and the men are deprived of true talent. Give it back to me. A musician needs his instrument.
Nota scribaeHe spoke this in a high whine, rubbing his nose incessantly.
the Tuesday after St Philip and St James, at Prime
Zdenyek spreads poison about me. He claims I bullied the recruit Joseph so much that the boy ran away into the woods. I was only toughening him up, as soldiers do. If Walter had not lost the boy's boots, he would never have feared the lash and deserted.
You tormented the poor lad from Dawn to Compline. Keep your voice down, or the Hungarians will hear of it.
Leave the boots out of this. Just hold up the blanket at muster tomorrow.
the third day of Easter week, at None
I lent my copper jug to Walter on Sunday so he could fetch a measure of beer. He simply kept it. Now I must drink from the dented communal cup. We Bohemians were promised good royal pay, but instead I share a tent with thieves and misers.
the feast of St Joseph, at Sext
My back is stiff from digging yet another latrine trench. The Hungarian masters treat us like unpaid peasants, not royal levies. The boiled oats have no salt. I spent the morning hiding behind the cook's carts so the sergeants would not give me more labour.
Stop whining, Jan. We all eat the same oats.
Nota scribaeDictated from behind a cart. He stopped twice to rub his nose with his wrist.
the Tuesday after Ash Wednesday, at Vespers
The winter march from Kolin was a misery. Poor Kvyetoslav wandered off and died in a ditch, which is entirely the fault of Robert and Thomas. At least up in heaven Kvyetoslav gets a warm fire. I only wish Peter hadn't stolen the best spot before they locked him in the Kolin gaol.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I saved us all from bleeding ears. Your playing sounds like a stuck pig, Jan.
You have ears of stone, dullard.