maidservant at the baths, of Troskowitz
“I scrub the grime off merchants and vagrants to keep a roof over my head.”
Things Juliana had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at None
John the hired hand is bleeding from the axe, swinging double shifts so that fat bastard Otto won't drown Garlic. I have been shaving the soap down to scraps, and if the abbess catches me I will be whipped bloody. Sweetling, I would steal the Pope's own soap to keep my dog.
Nota scribaeShe spoke this in a harsh whisper while watching the door.
the Monday after Easter, at Compline
I hear the guard counting his groschen under his pallet again. Not a single penny will he lend to save a poor beast's life, keeping it all for some grand garrison job. I ought to reach under there while he snores and take what is needed.
Touch my coin and you will lose that hand, bath-girl.
the Tuesday before Palm Sunday, at Prime
The roof leaked all over my blanket last night. Grete was weeping about the rain, stuttering to the Virgin Mary until my head ached. I took out Eve's old wooden comb and brushed the mud from my hair. God rest her soul, at least she doesn't have to listen to the crying.
It was very cold, Juliana. I only wanted Mary to keep the wind out.
the third day of Lent, at Vespers
Christ almighty, the dog slipped his rope. Garlic got under the rotting wattle fence and tore up three of Otto's precious fowl. Now the burgess wants blood or a heavy sum of silver. Says he'll have the bailiff drown the poor mutt in the river.
Three prime layers, you whoreson of a bath-scrubber. Silver or the river.
We will find the coin, Juliana. I will take on more shifts at the woodyard.
Nota scribaeShe was visibly distressed and had soot on her hands.
Candlemas, at Terce
The copper tubs are full, and the water is hot enough to boil a pig. A merchant from Kuttenberg came in smelling of sulfur and wet horse. Traded him sharp words for a few stray pennies. At least it is warmer by the steam than out in the chill yard.
Nota scribaeDictated between carrying heavy buckets of water. The scribe's boots got splashed.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You had best not be stealing my lye, Juliana.
Never, Abbess. It was just a way of speaking.