January 10

On this bitter morning, Sir Almeric de Brattleby, recently returned from the French wars, was forced to preside over a frost-bitten court at the edge of the frozen marshes. The local eel-catchers and fowlers had risen in protest against the new weir-tax, claiming the ice had rendered their traditional livelings impossible. Almeric, clad in heavy ursine furs and nursing an old wound from Agincourt, chose mercy over the gallows, decreeing that so long as the meres remained solid enough to bear a horse, the tithe of silver should be commuted to a tithe of dried pike.

His daughter, the Lady Eleanor, famously distributed warmed ale infused with ginger to the shivering complainants, an act of grace that cemented the Brattleby popularity for two generations. The event concluded with the ceremonial 'Breaking of the First Rime,' wherein the Baron shattered a decorative ice sculpture of a swan with his mace to symbolize the reopening of trade. This specific 10th of January remains noted in the manor rolls as the day the House chose the stability of the common folk over the immediate greed of the exchequer.

In the depth of the winter months, when the Great Hall is the primary refuge against the biting Lincoln winds, the protocol of seating becomes a matter of grave spiritual and social consequence. A gentleman must never approach the high table with his cloak still pinned at the shoulder, for to remain shrouded is to suggest a heart guarded against his host. The salt cellars, those towering monuments of silver and gold, must be respected as the meridian of status. One does not reach across the salt; to do so is to invite an immediate censure from the Master of Revels.

Furthermore, when the cold necessitates the wearing of heavy signet rings over gloves, one must remove the right glove entirely before offering a hand for the Baron to clasp. To touch the Lord’s skin with dead leather is a mark of extreme discouragement and low breeding. Silence is to be maintained until the first draught of wine has been poured, ensuring that all present have centered their wits upon the solemnity of the communal meal.

Begin by searing the jointed hare in a heavy iron cauldron with a generous portion of beef marrow fat until the flesh is well browned and the scent of wild game fills the kitchen. Add the sliced winter onions, allowing them to soften and catch the juices of the meat. Pour over the quart of claret, ensuring the liquid covers the game entirely, and toss in the dried damsons and the ground spices. This must simmer slowly over a low peat fire for no less than four hours until the meat falls from the bone at the mere touch of a wooden spoon.

In the final hour of cooking, crumble the rye bread into the liquid to act as a binding agent, creating a thick, rich sauce that clings to the ladle. Before serving, the pottage should be finished with the hyssop to provide a sharp, medicinal brightness that cuts through the heavy fat. It is traditionally served in hollowed-out loaves of coarse brown bread, ensuring that every drop of the spiced gravy is salvaged by the diner.