hired hand at the joinery, of Troskowitz
“I haul green oak and sweep shavings for the master joiner. Christ's wounds, it is honest work if you do not mind breaking your back for pennies.”
Things Simon had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Pentecost, at Vespers
My back is locked solid today. Christ's wounds, I cannot make the walk to the baker's ovens. Since they took Casper for the army, there are no deliveries. Will someone fetch me three loaves for tomorrow's shift? I will patch your boots or mend a coat for the trouble.
Nota scribaeHe paused often to shift his weight, grimacing as if in secret agony.
the second Tuesday in May, at None
These damp mornings are a curse. I miss old Eleanor the herb-woman. She knew how to brew willow-bark tea that actually chased the ache away. The new herbalist charges twice the groschen for muddy water. Poor Eleanor is in heaven now, free of chest colds, and I am here freezing.
Aye, the new tea does nothing for the cold in my bones either.
the third day of Easter week, at Sext
The master has us hauling green oak for the army wagons again. It is heavy, miserable work, dragging it through the spring mud. I keep my head down and do the shift, but I swear the timber gets heavier every year.
Less talking for the scribe, Simon, and more hauling. The soldiers will not wait on us.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke through gritted teeth and seemed in great distress.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Prime
I look over at the apothecary's gate and see John just standing there. Christ's wounds, what an easy life. No heavy lifting, no crushing timber, just leaning on a spear and muttering about Sedletz. He would not last a single day in the joiner's yard.
Candlemas, at Terce
Three winters now since that whoreson Benesh stacked the timber wrong and ran off to Prague. Margery kicked the chock loose, I know she did, but it was his doing. I still wake up feeling that crushing weight. If I ever see him again, I will break him in half.
I never touched the chock, Simon! Benesh was a terrified boy who thought the master would beat him to death.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed his lower back fiercely when he thought I was not looking.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I can fetch them after my watch, Simon. Just say a prayer for my unkept vow in return.
Keep your foolish vows to yourself, John. Just bring the bread before I starve.