John

The Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers

Four more groschen under the floorboards today. Soon I will have enough for a proper yew bow and a place with the castle guards. The master can find another fool to stand in the rain watching his grain.

Nota scribaeHe whispered this so low I could barely hear him.

The third day of Easter week, at None

Grete has been weeping since Prime over Otto's silver. The other John chopped wood until his hands blistered. They begged me for a loan again. I told them my purse is as empty as their heads. Let them find their own way out of it.

• 
  Juliana

  Saint George strike you blind, John, we know you have coin hidden somewhere.

• 
  John

  Look under the mud if you want, you will find nothing but your own boots.

The eve of the Annunciation, at Compline

Sat by the hearth at the alehouse until the embers went black. It is the only place my bones dry out. The roof in the shed leaks right over my pallet. That dead maid Eve must have stripped the shingles before the shaking fever took her.

• 
  Grete

  Eve was a sweet soul, God rest her, she never touched the roof.

The Thursday after Saint Matthias, at Terce

The bathhouse mutt slipped its rope and got into Burgess Otto's yard. Took three of his prized birds. Now the rich fool wants silver for the damage. The whole shed is in a panic over it. I warned them to keep that beast tied tighter.

• 
  John

  He is a good dog, he was just hungry. We will find the coin.

Nota scribaeDictated while he rubbed tallow into a bowstring.

Candlemas, at Prime

Another year freezing my feet outside the master's door. The damp is eating my bowstring again. I swear by Saint George, if Jurg Thömel does not pay to fix that roof I will wake up covered in moss. At least the dog catches the rats.

• 
  Merchant Jurg Thömel

  I pay you to watch the street, not to complain about the weather.