catchpole in Zhelejov, of Zhelejov
“I walk the bounds and throw drunks into the mud for twelve groschen a month.”
Things Walter had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at Vespers
Another week and still no word from Miskowitz. The merchants say Sigismund's men are burning everything up north. I asked Richard again to take a message to my mother Margaret, and again the boy made his excuses. Coward.
Nota scribaeDictated with a heavy sigh. The man smelled strongly of small beer.
the third day of May, at Sext
Had to drag two woodcutters out of the taproom last night before knives were drawn. My back aches like a rusted hinge this morning. At least Bartholomew stood up from his bench to back me. Twelve groschen a month is not enough for this.
They were too drunk to see straight anyway. You had them well in hand.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
The roads are thick with refugees coming south from the silver mines. They say the King's brother has no mercy in him. Every new face in the taproom makes me think of my mother. I drink to settle my stomach, but it does no good.
The roads are bad, aye, but I have my coin saved. Come Saint John's Eve, Bynyek's lease is mine.
the Tuesday after Saint Gregory, at None
Saint Jude give me strength. Nicholas is shouting about his fine draw-knife again. If he does not lower his voice, I will have to lock him in the cellar. I warned him twice today. I have no patience for paperwork.
Bartholomew took it at Candlemas and never gave it back! It cost me good groschen!
I lost it in the woods, lad. Let it go.
Nota scribaeThe catchpole leaned heavily on the table while speaking.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Compline
The snow is melting into deep mud and my boots are leaking. Walked the bounds today and found nothing but a dead sheep. The Pope's decree says I must tell the priest my days. My days are cold, wet, and full of fools.
I can check the storehouse locks tomorrow if your boots are wet, Walter.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I took an oath to keep the peace here, Walter. I am no use to you dead on the road.
Leave the boy be. You know he would run at the first sight of a Hungarian.