housekeeper at Semin keep, of Semin
“I feed the guards at Semin and keep this kitchen from burning to ashes.”
Things Margery had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
Andrew is tearing the barracks apart again for that wooden horse his late father Benesh carved. I have told him a hundred times I have not swept it into the hearth. Holy Mother, give me patience before I hit him with my spoon.
Nota scribaeShe wiped her hands on her apron the entire time she spoke.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
The spring is here and still I have not walked to Sedletz. Two winters ago I swore to Saint Barbara I would go, but the King's highway is swarming with cutthroats. They would gut a lone woman for her shoes. May God forgive me.
the feast of Saint Joseph, at None
The flour in the storeroom is half weevils and damp. I spent the morning mixing it with the good sacks just to make the pottage thick enough to fill a belly. If the captain wants better food, he can find better coin.
It tastes fine to me, Margery. We thank you for it.
Nota scribaeShe offered me a bowl of the pottage. It tasted mostly of ash.
the Monday after Ash Wednesday, at Terce
I lit a candle for Lawrence this morning. He was a good man who shielded the boys from the worst of the captain's temper, before the coughing sickness took him. The keep has not been the same since that black winter.
I still say a prayer for him on the cold night watches. He showed me how to hold my halberd.
Candlemas, at Vespers
It is freezing out, my hands are raw from scrubbing the stone floors, and Andrew is weeping because he lost his toy. I pity the boy, truly I do, but I have twenty tabards to mend and no time to search the straw for scrap oak.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted thrice by her shouting at a militiaman to leave the kitchen.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You might have kicked it under the grain sacks without looking. It is all I have left.
If you look under my sacks and spill the flour, I will crack your head open.