senior hired hand, of Trosky
“I am a hired hand here at Trosky, older and stronger than these whelps. I do the heavy work and they give me nothing but grief and lice in return.”
Things Walter had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Sext
Saint Matthew be praised, Edmund is still away in Jicin buying horses. I took a nap behind the water troughs. Let the younger lads break their backs sweeping the yard today. When my wages finally come, I am going down to Tachov to see Betty, even if she shouts about my slate.
Nota scribaeHe pointed a thick calloused finger at my inkwell while dictating this and yawned broadly.
the second day of Easter week, at Vespers
I am telling everyone here and now, I want my horn-handled knife back. I paid two whole groschen for it in Tachov. Richard claims it is lost, but I have seen him using it on the sly. If he does not hand it over, I will pay a stranger to beat him senseless.
You know why I keep it, Walter. A man who steals from a dying boy deserves to lose a knife.
He was already dead and cold, you whoreson! A dead man in the mud does not need a woollen cloak.
Nota scribaeThe man was red in the face and cursing loudly, though I omitted the worst of the foulness.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at Prime
My lower back is killing me. The main smith is busy, so I am stuck doing the farrier work again. Alan is holding the beast, but the whelp can barely keep his grip. If this horse kicks me, I will make Alan pay for the apothecary. Soft, all of them.
the Monday after St Gregory, at None
The rain today reminds me of that miserable muster last autumn. Deep mud and freezing nights. Poor Humphrey died in the dirt of the bloody flux. And why? Because Zdenyek put the sick lad on the heavy wagons just to lick the sergeants' boots. Saint Matthew, it makes my blood boil.
Candlemas, at Terce
The farrier was called away, so I lent my good horn-handled knife to Richard to trim a few hooves. It is a heavy task and I expected him to fetch it right back. I am a senior man in this yard and I will not be treated like a boy.
In the old days, a man respected his elders and returned what he borrowed without a fuss.
Nota scribaeDictated in the lower stables. He rubbed his lower back the entire time and sighed heavily.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I saw you sleeping, you old dog. Don't think we are doing your share of the yard work.
You had best bring those pennies you owe me, Walter, or you will get no ale here.