guard at the workshop, of Zhelejov
“I stand watch at the works with Maresh. I keep my boots laced, my eyes open, and try to keep out of the master's way.”
Things Geoffrey had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at Vespers
I paid the master my groschen for lodging again, but the thatch has been a ruin since Martinmas. I told him, a guard needs a dry bed. Christine makes do with old grain sacks, but we are freezing. The man swindles me.
Nota scribaeHe pointed his finger sharply at my inkhorn as he spoke.
the feast of Saint George, at None
If someone does not check on old Roger three times a day, he will fall from the ladder. He is up in the hayloft with sour wine, grey and feverish. His crushed hand is paining him, but I cannot leave the yard to play nursemaid.
I will look in on him at Vespers, lad. The old man is shivering in the hay.
the Tuesday of Easter week, at Sext
Thomas is jumping at shadows. He thinks Drslav is coming down from the castle to mark him for the levy because of that brawl two Easters ago. I told the lad to run if he sees the bailiff's man. A recruit's discipline is all we have.
Laetare Sunday, at Prime
Maresh is too proud for his own good. Sulking over a spilled bucket of oats! I told him, we are guards, not lords. Do the shift, eat the thin porridge, and keep your eyes open. That is the work.
It was my morning ration in that dirt, you whoreson. You would be angry too.
Nota scribaeDictated while pacing the yard to keep warm.
Candlemas, at Matins
Standing watch before first light. The frost bites and this porridge is nothing but water. God rest the master's late wife Beatrice. When she was above ground, the roof was patched and we had meat in our bowls. Now the whole place rots.
Amen to that. I pray for her soul every Sunday.
Nota scribaeHe asked the Lord to bless the late mistress, and I wrote it so.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The sacks keep the worst of the wind off, Geoffrey. Complaining to the clerk will not thatch the roof.