January 5

On this frigid afternoon in 1421, Sir Geoffrey de Brattleby stood atop the crumbling earthen embankments as the freezing waters of the River Ancholme threatened to swallow the lower pastures. With the threat of a winter famine looming, Sir Geoffrey commanded forty tenant farmers to sink the 'Oak of Penance'—a massive timber salvaged from the old priory—into the breach. The men worked in waist-deep slush, their breaths huffing white ghosts into the damp Lincolnshire air, while Lady Eleanor distributed leather jacks of warmed ale to prevent the humors from freezing in their limbs.

By the lighting of the Vesper candles, the flow was stemmed. This victory over the elements solidified the Brattleby reputation for stewardship over the treacherous fenlands. Sir Geoffrey famously remarked that the soil of the barony was not merely earth, but a trust held against the tide. The event is still remembered by the 'Dyke-Sod' ceremony held every fifty years, where the current Baron lays a spade of earth upon the site to honor the ancestors who braved the flood to save the winter wheat.

When a traveler of unknown lineage seeks shelter during the Twelve Days of Christmas, the Brattleby protocol dictates they be seated at the 'Lower Salt' but offered the same vintage as the household officers. It is a mark of high breeding to afford a stranger the dignity of silence until they have finished their first bowl of pottage; to interrogate a hungry guest is the height of vulgarity. One must observe their manner of breaking bread—a true gentleman does not use his thumb as a lever, nor does he soak his sleeves in the gravy.

Should the guest prove to be a scholar or a man of the cloth, the domestic chaplain shall lead the discourse. If a commoner, they are to be provided with a dry pallet near the hearth but away from the hunting hounds. The House of Brattleby holds that hospitality is a duty to God, yet discernment is a duty to the lineage. Always ensure the silver is counted by the steward before the guest departs at daybreak, doing so with such discretion that no offense is perceived.

Begin by dicing the venison into small, uniform cubes, ensuring all gristle is removed. Steep the meat in a mixture of verjuice and red wine for the duration of a morning's hunt. Meanwhile, peel and core the Warden pears, poaching them until they yield slightly to the touch of a knife, then slice them into thin slivers. Construct a sturdy coffin of pastry using suet and fine flour, lining the bottom with a layer of the spiced meat tossed in mace and crushed pepper.

Layer the poached pears over the venison, scattering a handful of currants between the folds to provide a sharp sweetness. Close the pastry lid and seal it with an egg-wash, crimping the edges heavily to withstand the high heat of the bread oven. Bake until the crust is the color of a ripened acorn. Before serving, pour a small amount of warm spiced wine through a hole in the lid to moisten the interior, allowing the steam to carry the scent of the forest to the high table.