maidservant at the tavern, of Zhelejov
“I keep my head down and serve the ale, though I fear the Lord's judgment.”
Things Matilda Short had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
The eve of Whitsun, at Compline
I felt a terrible chill while drawing water from the yard well today. It is God's own truth, the marsh fever is returning because I have not walked to Sedletz. But there are soldiers on the road, and I am too afraid to go barefoot among them.
Nota scribaeShe wept while saying this and wrung her apron strings until they nearly tore.
The Wednesday after Saint Mark, at Sext
I left a good crust of bread by the well for Elizabeth from the bathhouse. I see her struggling with the heavy laundry since that brute Adam broke her hand. I dare not speak to her directly, for I am foolish with words, but the Lord sees her toil.
Bless you, Matilda. My hand aches in the damp weather, but the bread was sweet and gave me strength.
The third day of Easter week, at Prime
I have searched the dirt in the yard and every corner of the tavern rushes, but I cannot find the wooden carving. Avice weeps for it, for it was her mother Marushka's. She nursed me through the fever, and I only wish to repay her kindness.
Do not trouble yourself over it, little bird. It is gone. We must just focus on our work.
Nota scribaeDictated while on her hands and knees in the muck.
The second Friday of Lent, at Vespers
The taproom is so loud tonight. The soldiers are drinking heavily and shouting words I do not know. I shrink back into the shadows to carry the empty jugs. Avice steps in front of the worst of them, praise the saints for her. I only want to sleep.
Keep your eyes on the floor and stay behind the kegs. I will handle their groping hands.
Candlemas, at Terce
I should be lighting a beeswax candle at the great monastery in Sedletz today. I promised the preacher Ernest I would walk there barefoot if I survived the sickness. But the roads are full of hungry men and fire. I am a wicked coward, and my soul is in peril.
The Lord weighs your soul, girl! A vow made before God is a chain unbreakable, no matter the danger on the roads!
Pay him no mind, he just wanted free ale. You stay right here where it is safe.
Nota scribaeThe girl was trembling so badly I could barely hear her speak.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You are not coughing, Matilda. It is just the wind. Do not let that loudmouth Ernest haunt you.
Get back to the taproom, the men are thirsty and the jugs are empty.