maidservant at the joiner's, of Troskowitz
“I do the work of two men for half the wage, and the master still watches me closely.”
Things Margery had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
John is at me again for that brass lamp. Bloody hell, he has the apothecary's big yard torches to light his patrols! I only need it a little longer to boil water for my tea. If he keeps shouting across the fence, the master will hear.
Nota scribaeShe folded her arms tight across her chest while speaking and glared at the wall.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Since Casper was marched off with the army last month, there is no one to bring fresh loaves to the yard. Now I have to walk all the way to the ovens after hauling timber all day. God keep the boy, but my feet are paying for the king's war.
My back is too stiff for that walk. The levy is a curse on us all.
the Thursday after Laetare Sunday, at Sext
Simon is complaining about his aches again and giving me that look. Christ almighty, it has been three winters since the green oak fell on us. If he had not been rushing his shift and pulled the wrong board from the middle, we would both be sleeping easier.
You kicked the wooden chock loose while you were sweeping, you clumsy fool. Do not put your mistakes on me.
I was nowhere near the chock! You were just too impatient to lift from the top.
Nota scribaeDictated in the drying shed. She winced when she turned to point at the timber pile.
the feast of St Gregory, at Compline
The damp in this shed is settling right into my bones tonight. I miss old Eleanor. Since the chest cold took her before Christmas, there is no one to mix that willow-bark tea properly. The new herbalist charges too much, and it does not unknot a thing.
Aye, Eleanor knew how to brew it right. The winters are much harder without her.
the day after Candlemas, at Terce
The master joiner is in a foul temper today. I am keeping my head down and sweeping the shavings as fast as I can. I saw him throw a boy out into the snow last winter just for a bruised foot. I borrowed a lamp from John so I can see to my own chores at night.
Less talking to the priest and more sweeping, girl. The iron tools will not sort themselves.
Mind you do not break my lamp. I need it for my patrols.
Nota scribaeThe master joiner was standing not ten paces away, so she whispered this very quietly.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I paid twelve groschen for that lamp in Kuttenberg. You are just using it to stitch clothes in the dark because you are lazy. Give it back.
I am not lazy, sakra! I do more hauling in a day than you do walking in a week.