September 1

On this morning in 1342, Sir Geoffrey de Brattleby stood amidst a sea of golden barley to mediate a bitter rivalry between the tenant farmers of the lower fens and the bailiff of the Abbey. The air was thick with the scent of dry straw and the tension of a summer without rain. The dispute centered upon the 'Great Bushel,' a measurement the Abbey claimed was standard, but the local freemen insisted was swollen by damp wood throughout the previous winter. Sir Geoffrey, known for his pragmatic justice, ordered his own silversmith to cast a brass rod of exact measure to set the standard for all future harvests.

Lady Elenor watched from her palfrey as the first sheaves were officially bound with blue ribbon to signify the Baron’s seal of approval. The resolution was toasted with small ale passed around in leather jacks, turning a potential riot into a communal celebration of the Equinox's approach. By sunset, the tithe-carts were moving toward the priory, and the house of Brattleby had secured a loyalty from the agrarian folk that would prove vital during the lean years of the coming pestilence.

When hosting a feast upon the Day of Saint Giles, the steward must exercise meticulous care in the placement of secular and monastic guests. While a Bishop commands a seat upon the high dais at the Baron’s right hand, the wandering friar or the local vicar must never be placed above a knight of the shire. It is a frequent error to conflate holiness with rank; however, the ancient laws of Brattleby dictate that blood and land precede the cloth when the salt is placed upon the board. Thus, a vicar shall sit at the head of the second table, bridging the gap between the gentry and the yeomen.

Conversation directed toward these holy men should remain centered upon the harvest, the welfare of the parish, and the collection of Peter’s Pence. One must never discuss the complexities of the hunt or the specifics of warfare in their presence, out of respect for their vows of peace. A host who allows a priest to feel either neglected or over-honored risks the equilibrium of the entire feast.

Begin by cubing the venison into small, uniform pieces, ensuring all silver-skin is discarded. The meat must be marinated overnight in a mixture of red wine and savory herbs to soften the wildness of the forest. In a large stone mortar, grind the mace and nutmeg until they are a fine dust, then toss this through the meat along with a generous portion of currants to provide a sharp sweetness that cuts through the venison's richness.

Construct a 'coffin' of thick hot-water crust pastry using the flour and suet. Layer the meat tightly within, pouring over a small amount of heavy cream before sealing the lid with a wash of egg yolk. Bake in a cooling bread oven until the pastry is the color of an antique coin. This dish is best served lukewarm to allow the juices to set into a rich jelly, providing sustenance for the hunters returning from the Brattleby woods.