soldier at the gate, of Trosky
“I am stuck guarding the lower gate while the good men fight Hungarians. It is a miserable life.”
Things Richard had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after Philip and James, at Vespers
That little bastard Roger still has my good bone comb. I lent it to him before Saint Blaise and the whoreson plays dumb every time I ask for it. I paid good groschen at the market and I want it back before the muster.
Nota scribaeHe pointed his finger fiercely at the wall the entire time he spoke.
the third day of Easter week, at None
If Nicholas mentions his sister Magdalena one more time, I will strangle him with his own belt. We are packed in this stinking room like salted fish, eating cheap pottage on credit, and I do not give a shit about her village or her chickens.
the eve of Palm Sunday, at Prime
Robert has been weeping about his missing tin pitcher all week. I told him I found it on the floor, so it is mine now. Perhaps if he stopped sitting on what he keeps hidden in his bedstraw, he could afford to buy a new one.
Give it back. You know exactly why things must stay hidden. Do you want to hang?
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of stale ale and spoke loudly.
the Tuesday after Saint Gregory, at Sext
Lambert shoved little James into the tavern hearth last night over three groschen. A poor showing, though James is too weak to lift a halberd anyway. The bailiff still has not paid our wages, so we are all drinking on empty purses.
A debt is a debt. He should not borrow if he cannot pay Jarda back.
My arm is burnt, Richard. You could have pulled him off me.
Nota scribaeDictated outside the alehouse. He spat into the street twice.
the Friday before Ash Wednesday, at Compline
A bloody mess near Tachov today. We went to clear out marauders, but the line broke when the cowards ran, leaving young Havel to die in the mud. Robert knows exactly who turned tail first. God rest the lad, he deserved better.
We all panicked, Richard. Do not act like you stood your ground when the shouting started.
I was holding the line! You broke it, you bastard.
Nota scribaeHe swore violently between sentences and asked the Lord for a drink.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I do not know what comb you mean, Richard. You must have dropped it in the dirt.
You little shit, I will shake it out of your pockets myself.