guard at courtyard four, of Trosky
“I am a Kuttenberg man stuck guarding this miserable pile of rocks. I just want my sister to know I am alive, I tell you, I just want her to know.”
Things Lambert had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after Ascension, at Vespers
I asked another carter at the gate today if he goes west to Kuttenberg. He goes east. Always east. My sister must think me dead in a ditch by now. I tell you, she must think me dead.
Nota scribaeHe stood very close to me while saying this, pulling nervously at his stiff collar.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
The men here fight over combs and pawned baldrics like children. I will not drink Anna's watered ale with them in the lower village. It is pig swill. Kuttenberg beer is what a man needs.
the Tuesday before Palm Sunday, at Sext
Walking the wall with Denis again. I ask him, Denis, just take a word to Kuttenberg if you ever ride that way. He says nothing. He is a cold fish, I say, a cold fish.
I am not riding that way. Stop asking.
Nota scribaeThe dictation took twice as long because he repeated every other sentence.
St Gregory's day, at None
Havel is whining about his lost bone die again. I told him David is too hard on him, but he must let it go. We have bigger worries, like the king's brother burning the countryside.
Candlemas, at Terce
Another freezing shift on this stone pile. I came for the wage but I am stuck. The roads are full of soldiers. If I had the coin, I would send a rider to my sister today. I tell you, I would send a rider today.
Keep your head down and draw your wage, lad. The roads are no place for anyone right now.
Nota scribaeHe scratched at his neck the entire time he spoke.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Leave the carters be, Lambert. You hold up the line for everyone.
Cheer up, mate. At least you are not dead in a muddy ditch like poor Martin.