May 5

Upon the fifth of May in the fourteenth hundredth and twelfth year of our Lord, Sir Reginald de Brattleby gathered the tenantry at the edge of the encroaching marshlands. For generations, the salt-mists and stagnant waters of the low fens had threatened the Eastern pasturelands, rotting the hooves of the prize sheep and turning the barley fields to sour mud. Sir Reginald, having returned from the French campaigns with a newfound appreciation for hydraulic masonry, laid the first cornerstone of the Great Sluice, a monumental feat of timber and limestone designed to harness the outgoing tide.

His daughter, the Lady Elspeth, famously broke a flask of spiced malmsey against the sluice-gate as the villagers cheered. This Charter of Drainage did more than reclaim the soil; it established the unique Brattleby right of 'float-age,' allowing the House to levy a toll on any barge seeking passage through the newly deepened channels. The day concluded with a feast of roasted pike and marsh-samphire, marking the transformation of a sodden wasteland into the most fertile acreages of the Lincolnshire hold, a testament to the family's enduring mastery over the elements.

When a tenant or lesser gentleman seeks an audience with the Baron to present a grievance or a request for land-right, the physical state of the document is as vital as the words inscribed upon it. A petition should never be presented on paper, which is the medium of the merchant and the clerk; it must be prepared on fine, scraped sheepskin vellum. The scroll must be tied with a ribbon of dark green or muted gold, reflecting the colors of the House's ancient forest rights, and never sealed with wax until the Baron has personally witnessed the signature.

One must approach the High Dais with the scroll held in both hands, palms upward, symbolizing that nothing is hidden and no weapon is gripped. It is a gross breach of etiquette to hand the vellum directly to the Baron; instead, it must be placed upon the velvet cushion held by the Page of the Presence. To bypass the Page is to insult the household's order and suggests a lack of understanding regarding the celestial hierarchy of the feudal state.

Joint the rabbits into clean portions, ensuring the bone is not splintered, and sear them in a heavy iron skillet with a generous knob of butter until the flesh takes on the color of summer hay. In a stone mortar, grind the tansy leaves with the juniper and ginger until a pungent green paste is formed. This paste must be rubbed vigorously into the seared meat before it is placed into a deep earthenware crock.

Pour over the honey, the verjuice, and enough claret to half-submerge the joints. Cover the crock with a lid of stiff pastry dough to seal in the vapors and bake in a slow oven for the duration of the midday mass. When the pastry seal is broken, the sauce should have reduced to a thick, dark glaze that clings to the bone. Serve on trenchers of day-old manchet bread, which will soak up the herbal juices and the sweetness of the forest honey.