watchman at the road tolls, of Trosky
“I walk the road tolls for the bailiff and watch the others drink themselves into early graves.”
Things Julian had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The Wednesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Philip stood smiling at the gate all morning while I lifted three rotting grain sacks out of a carter's wagon. The man gets out of every bit of heavy work. If I tried that, the quartermaster would dock me a week's pay.
Nota scribaeDictated at the stable doors. He was spitting frequently.
The second day of Easter week, at None
Bread is dearer again, and half the loaf is sawdust. Hynek didn't even buy any. He just chewed on a rind and dropped his clipped pennies into his little pouch. A peasant trying to buy a pasture! He'll just get robbed by James before the summer.
The Friday before Palm Sunday, at Compline
Down in Rose's cellar. Hugh is across the room, drinking himself blind again. He can drink an entire barrel, but it won't wash the mud off his hands. If he hadn't carried the lantern into that freezing bog last autumn, young Simon would be drinking with us right now.
Leave it be, Julian. The dark was absolute and the mud gave way. I didn't push him.
You led him straight into the water, you blind bastard. He rattled for a week.
Nota scribaeDictated in the cellar. The word he used for Hugh was not Christian.
The feast of St Gregory, at Sext
We finally got paid. A week late, and every penny looks like someone chewed the edges off. I spent it all at Rose's immediately. If you leave anything of worth up in that freezing loft, someone will pawn it. Better to drink it than be robbed by your own watch.
Discipline is slipping. Martin will fine us all if this thievery continues.
Candlemas, at Prime
Woke up stiff as a board in the loft. They say if you hear an owl hooting during the day, someone is marked for the grave. Heard one in the woods at dawn. Let's hope it's for the quartermaster, but it'll probably just be another honest recruit freezing to death in this draughty barn.
It was just a wood pigeon, you miserable sod.
Nota scribaeHe asked me to strike out the part about the quartermaster dying, then sighed and told me to leave it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The carter had a good joke, Julian. You should try smiling, your face might not crack.