August 26

On this day, Sir Geoffrey de Brattleby gathered his retinue of forty archers and twelve men-at-arms in the inner bailey. The air was thick with the scent of drying hay and the iron-tang of sharpened poleaxes. Sir Geoffrey, seasoned by the border skirmishes of his youth, knelt before the high altar of the estate chapel to receive a blessing upon his standard—a sable bull on a field of or. His young wife, Lady Eleanor, presented him with a silk favor embroidered with the family motto, her face a mask of stoic resolve against the looming uncertainties of the French campaign.

As the column filed out past the tithe barn, the villagers of the fenlands lined the track, offering prayers for the men who would soon face the mud of Agincourt. The rhythmic clatter of hooves on the sun-baked earth served as a grim metronome for the march toward Southampton. This departure marked the greatest mobilization of Brattleby steel since the days of the Crusades, leaving the management of the Lincolnshire estates entirely in the capable, if burdened, hands of Lady Eleanor and the aging steward, Master Thorne.

In the presence of the Baron, it is imperative that the hierarchy of the cloth be respected with as much rigor as the hierarchy of the blood. When hosting a rural dean or a visiting chaplain, they are to be seated below the salt but above the bailiff. Should the Bishop of Lincoln be present, he takes precedence even over the Baron’s own heir, occupying the seat immediately to the Baron’s right hand. One must never allow a man of the cloth to be placed near a man of trade, regardless of the merchant's wealth, for the spiritual dignity of the office outweighs the temporal glitter of the coin.

Furthermore, when the household gathers for the evening grace, it is the duty of the most senior Brattleby present to lead the response. To delegate this to a servant is a mark of sloth and a slight to the divine order. The steward must ensure the trencher for any man of God is carved from the finest wheaten loaf, signifying the purity of the Word. Silence should be maintained until the first cup of wine is poured, allowing the gravity of the blessing to settle upon the hall.

Take a haunch of venison that has been hung for no more than eight days in a cool, dry cellar. Lard the meat heavily with strips of salted fatback and sear it in a heavy iron pot until the exterior is dark as oxidized copper. Stir in a generous portion of ground mace and crushed hyssop, allowing the herbs to bloom in the rendered fat before deglazing the vessel with a mixture of red wine dregs and sharp verjuice. This acidity is crucial for breaking down the lean fibers of the wild game.

Submerge the meat halfway in a broth made from beef bones and wort, then add the dried currants to provide a subtle sweetness that counters the gaminess of the deer. Cover the pot with a weighted lid and simmer over a low peat fire for four hours. When the meat yields to the lightest touch of a knife, remove it to rest. Thicken the remaining liquor with breadcrumbs and a knob of butter to create a gloss, pouring it over the sliced venison just before it is carried to the high table.