hired hand at the castle, of Trosky
“I've swept the same stones in this courtyard for twenty years, lad. I keep my head down and do the work.”
Things Roger had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
That peddler's new willow-bark rub is about as useful as a hole in a bucket. Slept on my left side wrong and the chill got into the joint. Had to lean on my broom half the morning. Christ almighty, I miss Bozhena. She knew how to brew a proper salve, heh heh.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed his left shoulder the entire time he spoke.
The Monday after St John before the Latin Gate, at Sext
Father Osbert sent word down from the inner keep again. The man thinks groschen grow on the dung heaps! Young William is ten groschen behind on his tithes and that priest threatens to name him from the pulpit. A lad gives his wages away because he's got a soft heart, and the lords call him a debtor to God.
The Lord's ledger must be balanced, labourer. It is for the boy's own soul.
The boy's soul is fine. It's his purse that's empty, and throwing him out won't fill it.
Nota scribaeHe looked over his shoulder before naming the almoner.
The third day of Easter week, at Prime
Bread prices are up again, they say because of the soldiers on the roads. What do I care for the King and his brother's squabbles? I just want to afford a decent loaf. At least the horses don't know there's a war on. Mucked out ten stalls before the sun was properly up.
Aye, the bakers in the lower town are charging a full penny more. It's robbery.
The feast of St Gregory, at None
William lent his boots to one of the diggers and worked the morning in his footwraps. Bloody hell, lad, you can't warm the whole world! I told him he needs to look after his own neck first, or he'll end up broken like an old cart wheel. Reckon he didn't listen.
If he keeps giving his things away, he'll be needing my awl to stitch his very skin together.
Candlemas, at Compline
Seven winters since that timber cart slipped its chocks and caught me against the wall. A man doesn't forget a freeze like that. Hand still aches when it rains, heh heh. I can carry my share of the load just fine, but I'll be glad when the spring thaw comes.
You do more than your share, Roger. Nobody swings an axe better.
Nota scribaeThe man's grip on the table edge was trembling.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I'll take the heavy end of the water buckets tomorrow, Roger. You just point where they go.