hired hand, of Semin
“I keep my head down and do what is asked. It is better to have tired hands than a busy head.”
Things Prokop had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after St John Before the Latin Gate, at Vespers
The levy rode through the village today. I made sure to be in the back of the barn sorting the rotten oats from the good. I do not like the look of those pikes. I wish they would ride on and leave us be. A man should stay where he belongs.
the third day of Easter week, at Compline
My pouch is empty. I scoured the floorboards and the yard at dawn before the others woke, but there is nothing. It was only tin and a bit of glass, worth two pennies at most, but I cannot stop rubbing my bare fingers. It is gone.
What have you lost, Prokop? If it is a tool, you must tell me.
It is nothing, Joan. Just a trinket.
Nota scribaeThe man rubbed his fingers constantly while speaking and stared only at his boots.
Maundy Thursday, at None
Walter is shouting about his wages again. Joan looks as if she might weep, and Juliana says she will pack her bundle. Since Clemence died, the house is too loud. I just want to haul the grain and have some peace, but the clerk Gilbert has sent nothing for the larder.
the feast of St Gregory, at Terce
The thatch on the eastern roof was rotting through. Walter and I spent the morning pulling it out and laying fresh straw. It is hard on the back, but it keeps the rain off the pallet. The cabbage stew was thin today, but it warmed the belly.
You do good work, Prokop. I am sorry the stew is thin. When the allowance comes, there will be pork.
Nota scribaeDictated from atop a ladder.
the day after Candlemas, at Sext
Three winters since Jan went for a soldier. I touched his ring in my pouch this morning to remember his face. He thought he would make a name for himself, but Kuttenberg is a long way to go just to die in a ditch. Better to muck out the stables here.
He was a fool, God rest his soul. War is for lords and mercenaries.
The estate requires living hands, not dead heroes.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
They took three of our best laying hens. If Gilbert paid us, I might have bought one off them myself.
Keep your head down, Prokop. The king's men have the right to requisition.