watchman of the garrison, of Trosky
“I keep the Trosky gates. Someone has to teach these green lads how to hold a spear.”
Things Lawrence had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The Monday before Whitsun, at None
Quartermaster Martin is returning from the upper castle for the spring inspection. I swear by Christ's wounds, if I am fined a month's wages because James has not fetched my felt-lined hat from Rose, I will break his jaw. I refuse to pay a tavern woman to reclaim my own iron.
Nota scribaeHe spoke this very slowly, weighing every single word.
The eve of St George, at Prime
The damp this spring is wicked. My knees ache from standing in the mud for twelve hours, though it is only the weather and nothing to do with my years. I am up scrubbing rust off my mail with sand and vinegar before the sun, while Leonard jumps at shadows in his sleep.
I am not jumping at shadows in the dark, the floorboards are just loose.
Nota scribaeHe coughed violently into his hand after saying this.
The third day of Easter week, at Sext
There are more refugees on the road from the burnt villages, and the carts are heavy with mud. Philip smiled his way through the morning shift and let three wagons pass without checking the canvas. I had to scold him like a child. This is no time for sloppy watching.
They were only poor farmers, Lawrence, they had nothing worth hiding under the straw.
The Tuesday after St Gregory, at Compline
Sitting by the brazier mending my gambeson while the rest of the lads waste their coin in the cellar. I saw Hugh weeping behind the stables again. It is a pathetic sight for a man who wears the bailiff's badge. A soldier is only as good as his boots and his steel.
Candlemas, at Vespers
The winter frost is breaking and I want my kettle hat back, lad. I lent it to James before the snows so his ears would not freeze off, and now I hear it is sitting in Rose's cellar against his drinking slate. Christ's wounds, fetch it back before there is trouble.
I will get it back before the muster, Lawrence. Rose just wanted a small surety.
A fool and his kit are easily parted. You should have charged him a penny a week.
Nota scribaeDictated at the gates. He rubbed his chin for a long time before speaking his piece.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I am going down there tonight, Lawrence. Just give me until Compline to sort it.
Martin fined me two groschen last year for a frayed belt strap. God be with you.