hired hand, of Zhelejov
“I chop the wood and shoot the hares, and try to stay out of the yard when the others start squabbling.”
Things Hynek had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after St John at the Latin Gate, at Vespers
Adleta is begging for coin again to pay off old Prokop for those hens. I told her I won't give him a single penny. If he didn't want the dog in his yard, he should have mended his wire. Let the miserable old man call the bailiff if he wants to.
Nota scribaeHe whittled a piece of wood the entire time he spoke.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Still no sign of my flint. I've searched the straw every night. Ten years I carried it, struck every fire, trusted it for luck. It didn't just walk out of my pocket. One of these pups took it to trade for a final pint before Constance left.
the Monday after Palm Sunday, at None
Shot a hare at thirty paces just as the light was going. Skinned it with my own knife and brought it back to Adleta for the stew. It's the only meat we get, now that the master is docking us for that old ale slate.
It made a good broth. God bless you for it.
Constance shouldn't have sold that slate to the master. Curse her.
Nota scribaeHe seemed quite proud of the distance.
the eve of St Matthias, at Terce
Otto was whining about the work again, so I boxed his ears. Caught him near my snares. If he wants to eat, he can chop wood like the rest of us instead of trying to steal what I catch.
I was just looking! You didn't have to hit me so hard.
Keep your hands to yourself and get back to the chopping block, both of you.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Constance has packed up and gone to Kuttenberg. We ran up twenty groschen with her this winter, and now she's sold the debt to the master. He's taking it out of our wages a few pennies at a time. The yard is miserable, and I'm missing my good flint.
There's nothing left on payday. How are we supposed to live?
I miss the warm ale. And Constance.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted by a loud dog barking in the yard.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
He'll have the law on us, Hynek! And it was Cernik who did it.
The dog is ruined anyway. You treat it like an infant.
I'll have the bailiff on the lot of you. Bloody wolves in men's clothing.