maid in master hugh's yard, of Troskowitz
“I bake the bread, sweep the hearth, and tell fools what is what.”
Things Joan had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
If Walter tracks one more bootful of muck across my clean hearth, I will beat him with the broom. I spend from dawn to dusk keeping this kitchen right. The hands do nothing but argue and leave dirt for me.
Nota scribaeShe pointed her finger at the door the entire time she spoke.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Hugh has kept our groschen again this week. It is nonsense. Andrew priced those dead capons like they were the King's own swans, and my Bragge never touched them. It was that brute Colle, but we all pay for it. I will spit at Andrew's gate again.
the Monday after the Annunciation, at Terce
Robert made a vow to Saint Barbara to walk to Sedletz, and now he weeps about his stomach and needs strong beer to make the journey. Nonsense. A man should keep his vows without crying like a wet babe.
It was a bitter freeze when I made that vow. If Marion were back from Tachov, I could barter for a jug to settle my belly.
the eve of Saint Gregory, at None
There is blood and feathers by the fence and Andrew is screaming about his birds. I say plain as day, my Bragge is a good dog and was asleep. Colle is the one with the bloody jowls. Hugh locks his door and leaves us the shouting.
Your beasts ruined my best capons! I will have heavy silver for this, you hear me?
All this shouting woke me up, and my blankets are soaked through from the rain.
Nota scribaeThe woman smelled strongly of woodsmoke.
Candlemas, at Vespers
John and Walter are screaming by the fire over a bone die John lost. Hynek will not give Walter his felling axe over some boot repairs. If they worked as hard as they argued, we would all be rich. Poor Richard is the only one who works.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I was chopping wood all day. A man's boots get muddy when he works.
My boots are muddy because the shed roof leaks and we sleep in a puddle.
Nonsense. Put a bucket out and stop your weeping, Alice.