Richard

the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers

The steward pointed me to the old oaks past the mill today. My axe cut clean, but my neck aches terribly. I heard the bells from the valley and remembered that walk to Sedletz we owe. Christ's wounds, the roads are too full of soldiers to go barefoot now.

• 
  Alice

  We have no coin for the ossuary either, Richard. Eat your stew and hush.

Nota scribaeHe rubbed his neck the entire time he spoke.

the second Tuesday after Easter, at Compline

Adam Ford bought my leftover timber to burn. He is a quiet man, working his leather. His wife Felice is dead these two years, taken by the same fever as my mother. Up in heaven she is not smelling tanning piss all day, I reckon.

• 
  Adam Ford

  The wood was green and smoked up my yard, Richard.

• 
  Richard

  It burns fine if you tend it right.

Easter Monday, at None

Alice has hired Jezhek's daughter Elizabeth to help around the house. Jezhek drank too much and let a falling ash crush him, God rest him. I hope the girl pays better mind to her work than her father did to the canopy.

• 
  Elizabeth

  He left me nothing but debt, so I am here sweeping your floors. Keep your boots clean.

the Thursday after St Gregory, at Sext

A wandering friar preached by the crossroads today about vows left unpaid. Christ's wounds, I broke out in a cold sweat. Maurice lived, so we owe the Lord our barefoot walk to the bones at Sedletz. But I am too afraid of the stones and the distance.

• 
  Alice

  If Maurice had stayed instead of running off to Prague, maybe I'd feel like walking.

Nota scribaeDictated in a low, frightened mumble.

the first Friday of Lent, at Vespers

My sister makes a fine stew, but I miss my mother's cooking. Sybil knew how to season the pot. Now I hand Alice my wages and eat what is put before me in silence. It is best to let her rule the roost.

• 
  Alice

  I heard that, Richard. Next time you can cook your own oats.