housekeeper at Semin, of Semin
“Wife to Thomas and keeper of the house at Semin. I pray the Lord keeps our hearth clean and our dairy full, though lately we are sorely tested.”
Things Vendula had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
If a discreet soul who knows the woods below Semin wants a fine round of cheese and a basket of eggs, come to the back door after dark. I need a glazed jug carried to a certain stump. Just leave it there and do not look back. Praise be.
Nota scribaeShe crossed herself four times while dictating this and refused to say what was in the jug.
the feast of St John before the Latin Gate, at Sext
Thomas sat up until Compline again, counting his box. Twelve groschen gone. I told him that hired hand Jacob had light fingers before he ran off to Prague at Easter, but does anyone listen to me? Now we are short, and that lazy maid Agatha breaks another bowl.
the Wednesday after Easter, at None
Holy Mother protect us, the cows have stopped giving milk. Not a drop in three days. Thomas is inspecting them for ticks and changing the feed, but I know it is a curse. The air in the barn feels wrong. Lord forgive me my trespasses, the cheese presses are empty.
It is no curse. The feed was damp. They just need a few days in the upper pasture.
Nota scribaeThe woman spoke very fast and gripped the edge of my table until her knuckles turned white.
the feast of St Gregory, at Prime
Had to shout Agatha out of bed again. She moves like a frightened rabbit and does half the work. Her brother Hynek is a fine, brave lad marching with the Kuttenberg levy, but he took all the family sense with him. God keep him safe from the Cumans.
Hynek is a fool, mistress. He left me nothing but trouble.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Terce
The frost is breaking at last. Last week I thought the sheep would freeze to death, and we were down to our last firewood. I swore to the Virgin I would make a barefoot walk to Sedletz if we lived to see the thaw. The Lord is merciful.
You will freeze your toes off on the road, woman. Stay by the hearth.
Nota scribaeShe added that she would make the walk just as soon as the planting was done.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
What is this nonsense about the woods? We have no cheese to spare, woman.
Just an errand for an old friend, husband. Go back to your fields.