guard at the works, of Zhelejov
“I am a guard, not a dung-shoveller. I stand my watch, keep my back straight, and let the farmhands roll in the muck.”
Things Maresh had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second day of May, at Vespers
The boy Thomas is trembling again, afraid that Drslav will come down from the castle with the levy rolls. The army would make a man out of him. He jumps if a sparrow farts.
Nota scribaeHe laughed when he dictated this. It took some time to spell the curse.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Sext
Geoffrey and I took our meal by the shed today. The master's house is a sty, but at least out here we don't have to smell the woodcutters. My boots are clean and my blade is oiled.
the feast of Saint Matthias, at Prime
Standa is wringing his hands again over some vow to Saint Barbara. God's teeth, the pious fool thinks muttering a prayer will save him from a sore back. Keep your head up and your blade sharp, that's my religion.
Saint Barbara watches over those in peril. You'd do well to seek her grace, you arrogant pup.
Nota scribaeThe speaker tapped his belt firmly as he spoke.
the first week of Lent, at Terce
I will not speak to William. If a man trips over his own clumsy feet and drops a bucket of oats, that is his affair. Do not blame me because the hound ran.
Ash Wednesday, at None
There are soldiers on the roads and the price of bread rises, yet the master only tightens his purse. I keep my boots polished and stand my watch. Let the King and his brother sort out the kingdom.
Well said. We do our duty, the rest is the Lord's business.
Nota scribaeHe demanded I note his clean boots. I have done so.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Drslav swore he'd remember me! You wouldn't laugh if you had to carry a spear against the Cumans.
I'd carry it like a man, boy, not a frightened rabbit.