maidservant at Trosky castle, of Trosky
“I do the work of three women in this bailey while the rest stand around gossiping. Without me, the whole castle would drown in its own filth.”
Things Margery had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at None
That clerk Tobias left orders for an accounting of winter gear before the summer muster. Christ almighty, why can't the man leave well enough alone? My back is breaking from hauling slops, and now I have to turn out my chest for some ledger. If anyone asks, my jacket is being mended.
Nota scribaeShe crossed her arms tight and glared at the inkpot while dictating this.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
Bread is still too dear, and the root cellars are scraping bottom. I saw the pawnbroker in the settlement today. A greedy leech who gets fat while we starve and scrub the grease from the cauldrons. Kurva, if I had a groschen for every bucket I hauled today, I could buy the whole baker's cart.
Mind your tongue and be glad you get stew from the pot.
the feast of St Richard, at Sext
Two months. Two bloody months since I lent Emma my brass-bristled brush for the cauldrons. It cost me a month's wages! Every day she says she forgot where she put it or needs it for one last pot. She is a thief, plain as day. My hands are raw from the lye because of her.
I am not a thief! I just have to finish the large kettle, and then you shall have it.
Always shouting, Margery. We can hear you all the way to the upper bailey.
Give it back today, Emma, or I will take it from your pallet myself!
Nota scribaeThe dictating was loud enough to wake the hounds.
the Monday after St Matthias, at Terce
My back feels like it will snap in two. The well water splashed all over my skirts this morning and froze before I reached the kitchen. And there is Alice, standing around hoarding a cleaver like it is a holy relic, doing nothing. I do the labour of three women here.
Candlemas, at Compline
The winter slaughtering is upon us and we are working like the damned. Joan Stone took pity on my shivering and gave me a thick padded jacket. God bless her for it. I even lent my good brass brush to Emma so she could clean the cauldrons faster. We must all pull together in the frost.
You work hard, Margery. Keep the wind out of your bones.
Thank you for the brush. I will give it right back when the pots are done.
Nota scribaeDictated in the kitchens, smelling strongly of blood and boiling fat.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Make sure it is mended well, Margery. I paid good silver for that padding.
Funny how it needs mending when you barely wore it since the thaw.