beggar of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“An honest soldier broken by the lord's march, now asking for what Christian charity I am owed.”
Things Tattered William had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
My boy John wants to wed the daughter of a man who shovels shit from the city privies. I told him we have our dignity. A patchwork coat is an honorable garment, but the stink of the gong-fermor never washes out. The boy will make us the laughing stock of the gutter.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly. The old man spat thrice when mentioning the dung-carter.
the second day of May, at Prime
These Hungarian soldiers have hearts of flint. I sang a sweet hymn for one passing the mint, and he tossed me nothing but a lump of mud. Bread is dearer than last year, and my leg aches terribly when it rains. God curse their foreign boots.
They do not understand a civilized tongue, William. Save your breath.
We still have half a loaf from Tuesday. Come back to the alley.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Sodden Heinz is flapping his gums again about that lost purse of company wages from the retreat. Bloody hell, Heinz, we were running for our lives through a swamp. I could not have saved the silver. Keep your mouth shut before the captain hears and we both get whipped.
You had the bag last, William. I know what I saw.
You saw nothing but the bottom of a cup, you whoreson.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of sour ale and fear.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Sext
Filthy Kunz and Droopy John tried to take my spot by the church steps. That corner is mine. I earned it by freezing there all winter. I told them to find their own piece of stone or I would beat them with my crutch. They moved.
The sun hits that step best. You cannot claim the sun.
Well said, William. A man must defend his claim.
Candlemas, at Terce
Else says if you hold a blessed candle today it keeps the cold from your bones. I held one until it burned down to my thumb and I am still shivering like a leaf in the wind. At least the wax sealed a crack in my bowl.
You must pray while you hold it, you old fool, not complain about your leg.
Nota scribaeHe showed me the bowl. It was a very poor repair.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
She is a good girl, Father, and her father makes steady groschen.
Listen to your father, lad. Begging is a clean trade compared to that.