September 4

Upon this humid morning in 1415, Sir Geoffrey Brattleby stood alongside Bishop Repingdon to sprinkle holy water upon the threshold of the newly completed Great Tithe Barn. Built of massive Lincoln limestone and roofed with heavy Collyweston slate, the structure was a testament to the family's recovery from the Black Death. The local villagers gathered in the shadow of its high gables, watching as the family crest—the Boar and the Willow—was carved into the final lintel of the western doorway. Sir Geoffrey, a veteran of the French campaigns, declared that any grain stored within these walls would be protected by both God and the sharpened steel of the Brattleby men-at-arms.

Lady Eleanor Brattleby, his wife, distributed small honey cakes to the mason’s children, marking the transition from construction to the harvest season. The day was not merely one of architectural triumph, but of social cohesion, as the tenants pledged their labor for the coming reaping. As the sun reached its zenith, the massive oak doors were swung wide for the first time, signaling that the House was ready to receive the fruits of the fenlands and secure its people against the impending winter months. The air was thick with the scent of fresh mortar and the promise of a bountiful threshing.

When hosting a banquet during the harvest season, the Chronicler reminds the heralds that any knight-errant or unenfeoffed cavalier must be seated according to the antiquity of his lineage rather than his current landholdings. It is a grave insult to the House of Brattleby to treat a landless man of noble blood with the same indifference one might show a wealthy merchant. One must observe the subtle distinctions: if the knight has served in the King’s wars, he sits above the salt, yet he must always yield the place of honor to the resident Baron’s direct kin.

Conversation should be directed toward his deeds of arms rather than his lack of estate. In the Brattleby tradition, it is considered the height of discourtesy to enquire after a guest's income. Instead, the host should offer the knight the first serving of the venison haunch, signifying that true nobility is found in the spirit and the sword rather than the ledger book. To neglect this is to risk the stain of parsimony upon the House’s reputation.

Joint the hare with a sharp cleaver, ensuring the pieces are of uniform size. Sear the meat in a heavy iron pot using rendered lard until a dark crust forms. Once browned, remove the meat and soften the garlic and herbs in the remaining fat. Return the hare to the pot and drench it in the Claret, ensuring the liquid covers the limbs entirely. Add the mace and a generous dusting of salt, then cover the pot with a heavy lid sealed with a paste of flour and water to trap the steam.

Let the stew simmer on the edge of the hearth for no less than four hours until the meat falls from the bone at the mere touch of a spoon. Before serving to the Baron’s table, stir in a dollop of thick cream to bind the juices and provide a silken texture to the sauce. This dish is best served alongside roasted root vegetables or manchet bread to soak up the wine-stained gravy, providing a hearty meal for a cool September evening.