maidservant at jakesh's estate, of Troskowitz
“I keep my eyes cast down and tend the beasts. I am waiting for my brother to return from the king's war.”
Things Elizabeth had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Compline
I searched the entire loft again and found nothing but mouse dirt. I am terrified that if I do not find mother's carved pine pin, I will forget her face entirely. I only want to see it one more time.
Nota scribaeShe spoke in a whisper and wrung her apron so tightly her knuckles were white.
the feast of St George, at None
I am sewing a small pouch for John. He is terrified of the levy and hopes to save enough groschen to bribe the bailiff. He treats me like a sister, so it is the least I can do, even if he drinks too much cheap ale.
Bless you for it, lass. Though I've barely two pennies to rub together after paying my tab.
Easter Sunday, at Vespers
I prayed for Peshek at the cross today. John says he is likely dead in the slaughter in Prague, but John is a fool and I refuse to believe it. The master glowered at me all through my porridge. God rest Drahomira, she used to keep his temper in check.
Less praying and more scrubbing, girl. The floors won't clean themselves.
Things were better when the mistress was alive, God rest her soul. Now he pinches every penny.
Nota scribaeDictated outside the church. She wept when she spoke the brother's name.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Terce
John came to the fences smelling of the tavern again. He told me Peshek is gone and that I should stop hoping. I walked away and went to feed the beasts. I will not listen to his grim talk.
Ash Wednesday, at Prime
The thatch over Emma's corner of the loft failed completely in the night. She is furious and shouted at me for sifting through the straw while she was trying to stay dry. I only wanted to find my pin.
My blanket is soaked through! Stop scratching like a rat in the dark and let me sleep.
Nota scribaeThe girl kept her eyes cast down the entire time she spoke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Let it be, child. The dead are dead, and your scratching in the dark keeps me awake.
I told you, a magpie took it. They love little wooden trinkets.