Isolde

the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers

Lord bless you, the priest says if I do not bring the groschen for my mother Agnes's burial by Sunday, he will read my name to the whole parish! I have scrubbed my hands raw for Master Slavek but I only have pennies. Praise the saints, let the earth swallow me before the shame.

• 
  Farmer Slavek

  I give you your keep and your wages. The church's greed is no affair of mine.

• 
  Cecily

  I will save you half my loaf tomorrow, Isolde. Do not weep.

Nota scribaeShe wept over my table and stained the parchment.

the eve of St George, at None

The shouting from the next yard never stops, praise the saints I do not live there. William is pacing like a caged beast over his unpaid wages. I wish I had a man's courage to demand what is owed, but Lord bless you, I only want peace.

• 
  William

  A man's courage won't feed me, but my fists might if the master doesn't pay up.

the Tuesday after Easter, at Terce

Bless Cecily, she handed me the crusts of a good loaf over the fence while her master was looking away. Every crumb I save means a penny kept for the parish debt. She has a bad hand but a good heart, she does.

the feast of St Gregory, at Prime

The well water is freezing my hands stiff, Lord bless you, but Master Slavek expects the yard swept and the fire roaring. The soldiers on the road take the good wood, so we burn damp branches that smoke up the whole house.

• 
  Farmer Slavek

  Sweep the dirt and stop your complaining. The smoke keeps the damp out.

Nota scribaeShe spoke very fast and kept picking at the fraying edges of her sleeve.

Candlemas, at Compline

Three winters now since my mother Agnes passed, praise the saints she is at peace. I lit a tallow candle for her soul. I just wish she had left me the burial fee. The priest reminded me again today. Lord bless you, where will I find the coin?

• 
  Isolde

  I did not mean to sound ungrateful. She was my mother, God rest her.