farmer of Semin, of Semin
“I work parcel four just as my father did, and I want only to be left in peace.”
Things Hugh had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Compline
I counted the groschen again by candlelight. A few pennies short of yesterday's tally. A man cannot even trust the roof over his own head these days. Someone is taking my coin, and when I catch them, there will be hell to pay.
Nota scribaeHe stared at his hired lad while dictating this, though the lad was deaf to it.
the feast of St Pancras, at Terce
If that Kuttenberg carter Drslav ever returns from the levy, I will kiss his boots. A farmer cannot pay his hired hand on promises, but silver does not grow in cabbages. The purse is empty until the grain is sold.
I cannot eat promises either. The harvest is months away, Hugh.
the second day of Easter week, at None
The bailiff says I must cross the lane and hand Thomas one good cheese by St Gall's day to settle the fence trouble. I have the cheese ready, but I will see him rot first. He called me a thief before the whole village.
You broke the fence on purpose to steal my grazing, you old fool. Keep the cheese, just keep away from my land.
Margaret would have slapped you both for this foolishness.
Nota scribaeDictated in a high temper. He spat on the floor after naming his neighbour.
the first Friday of Lent, at Prime
A rotten fence falls by God's will, and Thomas's greedy calf wanders through the gap to trample my early cabbages. I told him to mend his own wood and mind his beasts. My dog Butcher chased the bloody thing off, praise be.
Father, please. The shouting in the yard gave me a terrible ache in my head.
Candlemas, at Sext
Five winters since the winter fever took my Margaret. The dirt is frozen hard today. William and I spent the morning mending harness by the hearth. She knew how to keep the peace in this village. I miss her sorely.
She was a good soul, Hugh. God rest her.
A good Christian woman who deserved a better husband, if you ask me.
Nobody asked you, Thomas. Keep your snout in your own trough.
Nota scribaeHe crossed himself when speaking of his wife and stared into the fire.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Are you looking at me, master? Just pay me the wages I am owed.
Father, you must have miscounted in the dark. Nobody here is a thief.