linen washer at the baths, of Troskowitz
“I wash the muddy linens at the baths. I-I just want to keep my head down, do my work, and keep my dog safe from harm, praise the Virgin.”
Things Grete had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
The eve of St John before the Latin Gate, at Compline
I feel sick to my stomach every time I go to confession. We have been holding back slivers of soap from the bathhouse to sell, just to pay off Otto's fine. If the abbess finds the supplies dwindling, we will be turned out into the street. Holy Mother forgive my theft.
Nota scribaeShe asked me not to write this down, then wept and said she must confess it to the book.
The second day of Easter week, at Terce
The abbess Bara had us washing from dawn to dusk. Travellers bring such mud and blood. I miss Eve today. She used to sing to Garlic when he was a pup. Two winters since the shaking fever took her, and the shed is still too quiet without her voice.
God rest her soul. She was a good one.
Less talking of the dead and more scrubbing, the lye is getting cold.
The second Tuesday of Lent, at None
John the farmhand is a decent soul. He chops extra wood every evening to help me gather silver for Otto. I sat by the hearth last night to mend his torn tunic. My fingers are clumsy with the needle, but I owe him my life.
It is just wood. Try not to prick your thumb next time.
Nota scribaeDictated near the woodpile. She dropped her apron twice.
The Wednesday after St Matthias, at Prime
Holy Mother protect us. Garlic dug under the wattle fence and got into Otto's yard. He left three prized fowl dead. Now Otto wants blood or silver, and says the bailiff will take my dog to the river. I-I do not know where to find the coin.
Thirty groschen, or the beast goes in a sack.
I am not giving you a single penny for a mutt's foolishness.
Candlemas, at Vespers
My hands are so cracked from the lye today. The winter chill sits right in my chest. At least Garlic kept my feet warm in the night. He is a good stray, even if his leather collar cost a whole week of scrubbing.
Keep rubbing that tallow on your knuckles, girl.
Nota scribaeShe coughed twice while speaking and fiddled endlessly with her apron strings.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Hush now. The Virgin understands, and Otto will have his bloody silver soon enough.