June 13

Sir Edmund Brattleby, weary from the French wars and returning to his ancestral seat, found his estate embroiled in a bitter litigation regarding the drainage of the Lower Witham marshes. The Bishop of Lincoln had claimed the right of turbary—the cutting of peat—upon lands the House of Brattleby held by tenure of grand serjeanty. To avoid further bloodshed or excommunication, Sir Edmund met the Bishop's bailiff upon the very embankment in question. Beneath a heavy midsummer sun, the parties paced the boundary with a silver-shod measuring rod, marking the limits of the peat-beds with stakes of charred oak.

This resolution, known afterward as the Accord of the Grassy Reach, was cemented by the sharing of a barrel of malmsey wine brought from the Brattleby cellars. While the House relinquished a small parcel of the boggy fen, they secured the perpetual right to the eel-weirs along the arterial canal. Lady Isabella Brattleby recorded in her ledgers that the peace bought that day was worth more than the weight of the peat in gold, for it allowed the village of Brattleby to prosper without the threat of episcopal interdict during the crucial hay-harvest season.

When the household gathers for the celebratory feasts of June, the arrangement of the High Table reflects the celestial order of the realm. A guest of noble blood must never be seated below a knight of the shire, nor should a younger son take precedence over an elder, regardless of his successes in the capital. The salt-cellar remains the great divider; those seated 'above the salt' are entitled to the finer manchets of white bread, while those below must content themselves with the coarser cheat-bread. It is the duty of the Marshal of the Hall to ensure that conversation flows without the clashing of disparate ranks.

Furthermore, when addressing the Baron or Baroness during the meal, one must wait for the briefest pause in their consumption. To interrupt a lord while his goblet is raised is a breach of the highest order, suggesting an unseemly urgency that ill-fits the dignity of Brattleby. Silence is often more virtuous than a poorly timed compliment. Observe the presiding family closely: if the Baron leans back and unbuttons a singular lace of his doublet, it is the signal that the formal portion of the evening has concluded and a more relaxed discourse may commence among the peers.

Gather the elderflower clusters at the peak of their scent, ensuring they are free of morning dew and insects. Create a light, airy batter by whisking the wheat flour with a splash of ale yeast and a spoonful of rosewater until it reaches the consistency of thick cream. Allow this mixture to rest in a cool larder for the duration of a morning prayer so the yeast may awaken.

Heat the clarified suet in a heavy skillet until it shimmers like a summer pond. Holding the elderflowers by their green stalks, dip them deep into the batter and plunge them into the hot fat until they bloom into golden, lace-like fritters. Meanwhile, simmer the white wine with honey, ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg to create a spiced claré syrup. Drain the fritters upon clean linen cloths to remove excess grease, then arrange them upon a pewter platter. Drizzle the warm syrup over the blossoms and serve immediately while the crunch of the batter still sings against the softness of the flower.