April 21

In the shadow of the aftermath of Towton, the Manor of Brattleby witnessed a union born of both passion and political desperation. Sir Godfrey Brattleby, a man whose loyalties were often as shifting as the silts of the Humber, took to wife the Lady Eleanor de Vesci in the dim light of the family chapel. Eleanor, whose first husband fell for the Red Rose, brought with her a dowry of contested lands and a dangerous reputation. The ceremony was conducted in hushed tones by a disgraced friar, while outside, the spring winds rattled the leaded glass, threatening to expose their secret to the Yorkist spies lurking in the nearby fens.

This union preserved the Brattleby northern holdings from sequestration by the crown, yet it sowed seeds of discord that would germinate for generations. The Baron of the time, Godfrey’s elder brother, was reportedly so incensed by this unsanctified alliance that he struck his brother’s name from the Great Pedigree. Legend suggests that on this night, the portrait of the first Norman Baron fell from the Great Hall wall, a sign of ancestral displeasure that many local folk still whisper of when the April moon is full and the blossoms are heavy with dew.

In the weeks following Easter, it is the sacred duty of the House Steward to ensure the Paschal candle remains unblemished and upright. Should any guest of noble standing enter the presence of the Baron during this season, they must offer a slight inclination toward the light before addressing the host. It is an egregious breach of etiquette to extinguish a wick with a dampened finger; one must use the silvered snuffer to preserve the dignity of the flame and the purity of the air. To do otherwise suggests a lack of reverence for the transition from darkness to light which defines our lineage.

Furthermore, when seating guests at the high table, the precedence must be dictated by the distance from the candle's glow. Those of the direct bloodline sit within the radius of the flickering light, while retainers and those of lesser manors reside in the shadows beyond. This visual hierarchy reinforces the divine right of the Brattleby line and ensures that every visitor understands their station within the feudal framework of the Lincolnshire fens.

Begin by poaching the cleaned pike in a broth of spring water and local ale until the flesh is firm and white. Once cooked, set the fish aside to cool completely. In a separate copper vessel, prepare the galantine by simmering the verjuice with the honey and the array of ground spices. The heat must be steady, never boiling, to allow the saffron to bleed its golden hue into the liquid, representing the returning sun of the season.

Whisk the liquid continuously as it reduces, then strain it through a fine linen cloth to remove any sediment. Place the pike onto a silver salver and carefully pour the spiced liquid over the cold fish. Leave the dish in the cool of the buttery until the glaze sets into a translucent, shimmering jelly. Serve this to the guests with a garnish of fresh borage flowers to signify the arrival of the lighter months and the mastery of the household over the waters of the estate.