maidservant at the mill, of Zhelejov
“I am a maidservant at the mill. I try to stay quiet and do my chores, but the flour dust gets into absolutely everything.”
Things Amice had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Monday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The wheel never stops thumping and the flour coats my lungs. I scrubbed the tables twice today but Lida still found a speck. At least the soldiers have not come down the road this week to demand our bread.
Nota scribaeShe wiped her hands on her apron the entire time she spoke.
the feast of the Ascension, at None
Frantishek jumped at the shadow of a passing cart again today, thinking the soldiers were back. If he would just go to Sedletz and make his vow, maybe we could have some peace by the fire.
The roads are thick with Cumans, Amice. I will go when the Lord makes it safe.
Stop your bleating, Frantishek. The girl has enough noise in her ears.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Robert thought he found my mother's bone comb in the yard. It was only a piece of pale flint. I know he means kindly, but I beg them all to stop showing me stones. It only makes the weeping start again.
I only meant to help. I will leave the stones in the muck from now on.
I know you did, Robert. May God keep you.
Nota scribaeShe wept softly for her mother Doubravka while I wrote this.
the third Wednesday of Lent, at Terce
Washing the men's heavy tunics in the stream froze my hands to the bone. Robert is still saving every groschen for that yew bow from Paul in Semine. I hope he gets it, if it keeps him quiet.
Fifty groschen for a stick of yew! That bowyer is a thief, I tell you.
the morning of Candlemas, at Sext
I raked the ashes and coaxed the embers so Lida could have hot water. The yard is still frozen hard. I caught myself looking for my comb near the woodpile, though I know the muck swallowed it back at Martinmas.
Keep your mind on the fire, Amice. The comb is gone and crying will not bring the water to a boil.
Nota scribaeShe asked to strike out the part about the comb, then sighed and said to leave it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
A speck is enough to draw mice, girl. Scrub harder tomorrow.