March 9

Upon this day, Sir Alaric Brattleby returned from the French wars to find his forests infested with a 'Shadow Parliament' of landless men. Under the budding boughs of the Great Oak, Alaric met their leader, a defrocked monk named Brother Silas. Rather than resorting to the gallows, Sir Alaric demonstrated the Brattleby temperament of practical mercy; he offered the outlaws a choice between the sheriff’s noose or the arduous labor of draining the southeastern fens to create new arable pasture. The negotiation lasted until the stars blinked through the leafless canopy.

By dawn, the Poacher's Pact was dissolved. Silas and forty men laid their longbows at Alaric’s feet in the mud of the deer park. This event marked the beginning of the 'New Polder' expansion, which added three hundred acres to the estate's holdings. The Lady Eleanor Brattleby later recorded in her diaries that the air smelled of wet moss and woodsmoke—a scent she forever associated with the precarious peace of her husband's return and the preservation of their ancestral timber against the desperations of the poor.

When a traveler of uncertain rank arrives at the gatehouse during the transition of seasons, a Brattleby steward must never show hesitation. Position the guest at the solar’s lower periphery, ensuring the salt is placed precisely between their reach and the high dais. This maintains the essential hierarchy of the bloodline while fulfilling the sacred obligation of hospitality. A gentleman should be judged by the quality of his spurs and the clarity of his speech, yet no man is granted the Great Chair unless his lineage is verified by the parchment of the King’s Heralds.

In conversation, the House must remain a citadel of discretion. One must inquire of the guest's journey across the Lincoln Edge without revealing the proprietary secrets of the estate’s harvest or the Baron’s private correspondences. Silence is an armor as sturdy as plate-metal. If the guest proves to be a man of genuine merit, his elevation to the upper boards may occur during the second course, but never before the soup has been cleared. Such measured grace ensures that the dignity of Brattleby is never cheapened by haste.

Begin by soaking the dried peas in soft well-water for a full night until they swell. In a heavy iron cauldron, melt a knob of salted butter and soften the sliced leeks until they are translucent but not browned. Add the peas and enough water to submerge them by three fingers' breadth. Simmer over a low peat fire until the pulses soften into a thick, uniform texture that coat the back of a wooden spoon. Just as the pot begins to thicken, whisk in a spoonful of ale-yeast to provide a savory depth that mimics the richness of meat during this season of abstinence.

Shortly before serving, bruise the fresh hyssop with a mortar and pestle to release its medicinal oils and stir it into the pottage. The heat of the pot will bloom the herb's flavor without turning it bitter. Season heavily with white pepper to warm the blood against the March damp. Pour the pottage into turned wooden bowls and garnish with toasted rye sippets that have been rubbed with a clove of garlic. This dish serves to sustain the body through the Lenten fast while cleansing the humors of the winter's sluggishness.