spearman at the camp, of Nomad camp
“I keep the carts in line and the King's peace on this muddy road. It is honest work, though a man deserves better pay for freezing his arse off.”
Things Andrew had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St George, at Vespers
The captain arrives for the muster soon and I am in deep shit. Drslav fought a toll man and is locked in the debtor cell, so I cannot get the mail coif out of pawn. It is Joseph's own fault for offering it as backing when I was dry, and then leaving his pack unguarded.
Nota scribaeThe man jingled an empty pouch nervously the entire time he spoke.
the second day of Easter week, at Sext
Nicholas is wringing his hands because Daniel is sweating with a fever in a rotting wagon. I told him sickness is God's business, not a guard's. If the estate cared, Simon the clerk would lower the pitch-fees and pay for a leech. William just sat there quietly, letting John walk all over him as usual.
Daniel's poor Anne died of a chill just like this one. A little pity costs you no silver, Andrew.
the Thursday after Laetare Sunday, at Compline
Lost my last silver to John at the dice cloth. The bastard throws a six whenever he likes. I know he carved those bone dice with a stolen awl to make them heavy on one side. I would call him a cheat to his bloody face, but I am sworn to keep the peace here.
The dice are fair. You are just a fool who bets more than he has in his pouch.
Nota scribaeDictated near the watch fire. He smelled strongly of cheap ale and kept shrugging.
the feast of St Thomas Aquinas, at Terce
Young David is pissing his breeches over the true levy. He thinks he can hide from the King's war! I told the lad that Sigismund's Cumans can smell a coward a mile off. Better to hold a spear for the estate with pride like me than scurry in the mud like a beetle.
It is easy for you to boast when you just sit by the fire eating borrowed turnips all day.
the Friday after Candlemas, at None
Drslav was going to break my teeth over forty groschen I owed at the ale-house, so I pawned some spare gear to square it. A man must pay his debts. Now Joseph is weeping, claiming I stole his mail coif. People in this camp have no honour when it comes to keeping a bargain.
It was not your spare gear! You went into my pack and took it to pay for your own ale! Get it back.
You lent it to me, you just forgot. Keep your voice down before the captain hears.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke very quickly and looked over his shoulder twice.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I never offered it to you, you lying whoreson! You stole it while I slept! If the captain flogs me for missing my kit, I will break your jaw.