bathhouse maid at the camp, of Sigismund's camp
“I haul water and ash all day, sir, praying God does not strike me dead for what I owe Him.”
Things Alice had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Compline
I tripped on the ash pile and kicked a bucket over today. I said sorry to it, but I know it is a sign. The Lord is losing patience. If I do not walk to Sedletz soon He will drop a burning log on my head, I just know it.
Nota scribaeShe spoke so fast I had to ask her to start again twice.
the feast of St Pancras, at Vespers
Isabel was shivering again, so I let her stand near the big cauldron. We had to scrub Hungarian tunics all day. I wanted to ask Francis the quartermaster for half a day's leave to go to the bone church, but he looked so sour I lost my nerve. He'll throw me out to starve on the road.
Bless you for the warmth. That whoreson Francis would let us all freeze if it saved him a groschen.
Don't ask him, Alice. Keep your head down and scrub.
the Tuesday after St George, at None
I sifted the ash pits again but there is no sign of Klara's bone comb. I am so sorry, Richard. Alice Wright's dogs, Amiable and Lemon, came sniffing around the vats and tried to eat the lye soap again. I had to chase them off before they poisoned their insides.
Thank you for looking, lass. I fear it is gone to dust by now.
Those dogs will eat anything that smells like fat, God protect their stupid heads.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
The Lord rose yesterday, and I am still here scrubbing. I swore I would go to Sedletz barefoot when I was sick, but the camp moved and now the shifts are so long I cannot leave the cauldrons. The broken vow is a stone in my belly. I am so afraid.
I really will go, I promise, just as soon as the washing is done.
Nota scribaeShe wept while saying this, clutching at a wooden cross on her neck.
the third Wednesday of Lent, at Terce
The coughing flux is on me and I am surely dying. I lie here on the cold earth by the vats and I can barely draw breath. Christ almighty, if You spare me, I vow I will walk barefoot to the great bone church at Sedletz to offer thanks. Please let me live.
Drink the willow bark tea I left by the bucket, Alice. It is not your time.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
God has better things to do than watch you kick buckets, Alice. Come stand by the fire.
The Lord knows you work from dawn to dark. He can wait for your bare feet.