March 20

Upon this damp morning in 1421, Sir Percival Brattleby, weary from the French campaigns, stood amidst the rising waters of the Witham Valley to finalize the Lowland Covenant. The winter had been particularly cruel, locking the fens in a grip of iron ice that threatened the spring sowing. As the sun reached the precise meridian of the equinox, Percival met with the shivering tenants of the lower bailey to formalize the drainage rights, a gesture of lordship that prioritized the survival of the common folk over the expansion of the deer park. He famously dipped his signet ring into the freezing slush to mark the parchment, symbolizing the House’s bond to the very soil it governed.

By midday, a sudden, warm wind from the south—the ‘Breath of Cuthbert’—ripped through the valley, causing a dramatic and thunderous fracturing of the river ice. Lady Elenor Brattleby watched from the solar as the torrents carried away the debris of winter, declaring it a divine omen for the coming season. The covenant remained the governing law of the Brattleby dales for three centuries, ensuring that no tenant would starve while the granaries of the Great House held even a single bushel of rye.

When the sun crosses the celestial equator, the House of Brattleby observes the strict hierarchy of the Vernal Greeting. It is a time of transition, where the austerity of winter gives way to the burgeoning life of spring, and thus the etiquette of the household must reflect this renewal. The Master of the Horse must be the first to present himself to the Baron, offering a sprig of fresh blackthorn to signal the awakening of the land. It is considered a grave breach of decorum for any junior member of the family to wear furs after the noon hour on this day, as it suggests a lack of faith in the coming warmth.

In the presence of guests, the seating at the high table must be adjusted to account for the increasing light. The youngest page is tasked with ensuring the heavy drapes are parted precisely as the sun touches the Western Buttress. To ignore the shift in season is to ignore the cycles of the earth itself, which a Brattleby must never do. Silence is to be maintained during the first hour of dusk, allowing the House to listen for the first calls of the returning lapwings.

Begin by cleaning the fish thoroughly, retaining the head for the presentation of rank. The pike must be poached gently in a broth of spring water and verjuice, flavored heavily with mace and the finest Spanish saffron until the flesh takes on a hue like the morning sun. Care must be taken not to boil the liquid, lest the delicate flakes of the fish be lost to the turbulence of the pot. Once the fish is tender, remove it carefully to a pewter platter and keep it warm by the hearth.

To create the Gallant sauce, strain the poaching liquid and whisk in the manchet breadcrumbs and a generous knob of sweet butter to thicken. Add the currants and a pinch of pepper to provide a sharpness that cuts through the richness. Pour the thickened sauce over the pike until it is fully gilded. Serve immediately with a side of parsnips roasted in honey, ensuring the dish is blessed by the household chaplain before the first cut is made by the eldest resident.