guard at Trosky castle, of Trosky
“I stand my watch in the second courtyard. Ten years in the lord's colours and I know every cracked stone.”
Things Maurice had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Friday before Whitsun, at Compline
The officers are terrified of Sigismund's men on the roads. Twelve hours they have us standing out here now. My back aches so fiercely I can barely stand, but I keep my face still. Let the young fools run the drills.
Nota scribaeDictated at the tavern. He spoke very quietly.
the eve of St George, at Vespers
That ale-wife is demanding her fourteen groschen. I only drink her sour swill so I can sleep on that cursed straw. If the captain sees me flinch when I lift my spear, I am thrown out on the road.
I will pay her when the wages come. Tell her to hold her tongue.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Wore old Peter's thick woollen socks today. God rest his soul, dropping dead of a bad heart last winter, but he left good wool. Better me to have them than the grave-digger.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Prime
Christ almighty, my hand throbs in this damp. I miss old Doubravka and her willow paste. Since her roof caved in and she left for Jicin, I have had no peace from the ache.
I can make you a stiff brace from boiled leather, if you have the coin for it.
Nota scribaeThe man rubbed his left hand the entire time he spoke.
Candlemas, at Sext
Saw a merchant from the north who brought news of mercenaries. I pray every night to Saint Martin that a Hungarian puts a bolt through Benesh's thick neck for what he did to my wrist six winters past.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Keep quiet, Maurice. The captain has ears everywhere and you will get us all beaten.