soldier in the camp, of Sigismund's camp
“I find firewood for the camp, but mostly I find decent ale in Kuttenberg. A man has to see to his own thirst before the captains drink it all.”
Things Alan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second Tuesday after Saint George, at None
Bartholomew is whining about his copper jug again because the quartermaster wants to see our kit. I found it in the mud, fair and square. If a man cannot look after his own gear, he does not deserve it.
Nota scribaeThe man reeked of stale beer.
the eve of Saint Mark, at Sext
Frantishek shoved that letter for his sister Agnes at me again today. I told the boy I am walking to the Kuttenberg taverns, not bloody Kolin. If he wants her to read it, he can desert like Thomas did.
Please, Alan, it is just up the road. She thinks I am dead.
You are a fool, Frantishek. Drink your ale and be quiet.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Prokop is digging ditches for sleeping on watch. He still blames me for Thomas running off, saying I told him the southern roads were clear. I said no such thing. Thomas ran because he owed the ale-wife too much coin.
You told him exactly that, you lying bastard. My back is broken from this digging.
Keep digging, Prokop, or the provost will give you the whip.
the Wednesday before Palm Sunday, at Vespers
Drank at the outer taverns in Kuttenberg. Two miners tried to start a brawl over a spilled cup, but I know how to keep my guts inside my belly. I walked out with my purse and my skin.
I saw you running, lad.
Nota scribaeHe laughed after every sentence, though nothing was funny.
the morning of Saint Gregory, at Prime
Woke up and Thomas is gone. Just took his boots and walked out. Any man with half a brain would do the same, considering the mud in this cursed tent. Now there is more room, at least.
He took my good socks, the bastard.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is my jug, you whoreson, and you borrowed it last month.
I recall no such thing, Bartholomew.