April 15

Three days after the carnage at Barnet, a bedraggled company of Brattleby men-at-arms crest the limestone ridge of the Cliff, bearing the shredded standard of the Yorkist cause. Sir Thomas Brattleby, his armor scored by Lancastrian poleaxes and his surcoat darkened by the grime of the journey, led the procession into the manor garth. The silence of the village was broken only by the rhythmic clatter of weary hooves and the low keening of widows who recognized the riderless horses led at the rear. Thomas knelt before the Great Hall's hearth, surrendering his dented sallet to his young daughter, Margaret, signaling a temporary end to his participation in the Wars of the Roses.

That night, the Brattleby archives record a somber feast of thanksgiving and mourning. While the victory for Edward IV secured the family's precarious landholdings in the Lincolnshire fens, the cost was etched in the faces of the survivors. The Chaplain, Father Eustace, led a litany for the fallen archers whose remains were left in the cold clay of Hertfordshire. This date became enshrined in the House annals as a day of 'grim sanctuary,' marking the precise moment when the House of Brattleby chose the longevity of the soil over the fleeting whims of the London courts.

When a pursuivant or herald of the College of Arms arrives at Brattleby, one must never treat him as a mere messenger, nor as a peer of the blood. He is the living embodiment of the King’s voice and must be received at the screens passage with the dignity afforded to a high cleric. He shall be seated at the salt, on the dexter side of the Baron, yet his chair must be three inches lower than that of the host to signify his role as a functionary of the realm. No business may be discussed until the herald has broken bread and tasted the local ale; to rush to the reading of a patent is the mark of a desperate and unrefined house.

During the meal, the protocol of the House dictates that the herald be addressed as 'Master' followed by his office—be it York, Richmond, or Garter. Conversation must avoid the vulgarity of coin or the specifics of land disputes until the trenchers are cleared. Should the herald bring news of a passing or a bill of attainder, the Baron must remain stoic, for to show emotion before a royal officer is to suggest that the House of Brattleby is subject to the whims of man rather than the permanence of God’s law. Only when the herald is escorted to the guest chambers may the family private lament or rejoice.

The bird must be plucked and cleaned with great care, ensuring the skin remains intact for the gilding process. Begin by trussing the capon with stout twine and rubbing the flesh with a mixture of smoked lard and salt. As the bird roasts slowly over a spit of seasoned ash-wood, prepare the 'liquid gold'—a reduction of sharp verjuice infused with a generous pinch of saffron and a spoonful of mountain honey. This glaze must be applied with a feather brush every quarter hour to achieve a deep, amber brilliance that catch the light of the torches in the High Hall.

In the final stages of the roasting, dust the crisping skin with a fine powder of ginger and cinnamon to provide a sharp contrast to the fat. The capon is done when the juices run clear as spring water and the aroma of hyssop, placed within the cavity, begins to perfume the air. Serve the bird upon a silver charger, garnished with the toasted gizzards and a sprig of fresh herbs to signify the vitality of the spring season. It is a dish designed to impress both the palate and the eye of any high-born guest.