April 12

In the damp spring of 1424, Sir Osmund de Brattleby met with the agents of the Bishop of Lincoln beneath a lone, lightning-scarred oak that marked the contested marches of the High Wolds. For three generations, the tenure of the 'Seven-Acre Slack' had been a source of bloody skirmishing between tenant farmers. Sir Osmund, seeking to avoid further litigation in the King's courts, famously uncorked a flagon of malmsey and spread a map of sheepskins across a flat boulder, insisting that 'boundaries are carved better in wine than in earth.'

By dusk, a compromise was struck. The House of Brattleby surrendered the rights to the marshy bottom-lands in exchange for a perpetual tithe of wool-fells and the right of passage for the Baron’s hounds. Lady Elene de Brattleby recorded the agreement in the great red ledger, noting that the parish priest blessed the new boundary stones with hyssop. To this day, the Brattleby coat of arms is still visible, though weathered, upon the marker stone at the edge of the Osgodby woods, a testament to Sir Osmund's preference for prudent diplomacy over the sharpened pike.

When a traveling knight of good standing arrives at Brattleby without a retinue or a formal invitation, the Protocol of the Outer Gate must be strictly observed to maintain the dignity of the House while ensuring Christian charity. Such a guest is never to be seated above the salt, regardless of his lineage, unless he can produce a sealed warrant from the Earl or the Sovereign. Instead, he shall be placed at the head of the secondary table, located to the dexter side of the Great Hall, where he may be observed by the Seneschal throughout the duration of the meal.

It is considered a grievous breach of etiquette for any member of the family to inquire after the knight’s business before the second course—usually the roast—has been served. Once the meats are cleared, the Baron may invite the guest to the High Table for hippocras and wafers. This delay allows the House to assess the traveler's character and prevents the inadvertent harboring of outlaws or political exiles under the guise of hospitality.

Begin by skinning the eels and cutting them into sections the length of a thumb. These must be seared quickly in a pan with a small knob of clarified butter until the flesh begins to firm. In a separate pipkin, combine the honey and verjuice, simmering it over a low peat fire until the mixture reduces to a syrupy consistency. Incorporate the crushed galangal and the long pepper, ensuring the spices are evenly distributed so as not to overpower the delicate river-scent of the fish.

Add the eel sections to the liquor and poach them gently for ten minutes. Just before the dish is struck from the heat, whisk in the toasted breadcrumbs to create a sauce that clings to the back of a silver spoon. Garnish with finely chopped hyssop. This dish is best served to those recovering from the Lenten fast, as the richness of the honey provides much-needed vigor during the fickle dampness of the Lincolnshire April.