September 6

On this sixth day of September, Baroness Isolde de Brattleby affixed her wax seal to the parchment that authorized the construction of the Great Tithe Barn. The harvest of 1341 had proven so bountiful that the existing granaries groaned under the weight of Lincolnshire gold. Isolde, acting as regent while her lord husband campaigned in the marches of Scotland, commanded that the limestone be hewn from the local ridge. Master Mason Thomas of Stowe was summoned to oversee the raising of the oak cruck-beams, ensuring that the structure would stand as a monument to the House’s stewardship and the fertile soil of the Ancholme Valley.

Tradition holds that as the first stone was laid, Isolde cast a silver groat into the mortar for luck. The village gathered in the shadows of the rising walls, sharing a cask of ale provided by the manor. This event marked a shift in Brattleby's fortunes, transitioning from a merely defensive outpost to a center of agricultural commerce. To this day, the foundations of that same barn serve as the bedrock for the estate’s modern winery, a testament to the enduring foresight of the medieval matriarch who saw beyond the sword to the sustenance of her people.

When a traveler of unknown rank seeks hospitality during the transition of the seasons, the Chamberlain must exercise the utmost discretion. It is the height of vulgarity to demand a pedigree at the gatehouse; instead, observe the quality of the stranger's mount and the cleanliness of their traveling cloak. A guest of gentle birth, though weathered by the road, will possess a certain quietude in their bearing. They are to be seated at the lower end of the high table, but never among the men-at-arms, until their identity is established by conversation or letters of introduction.

Should the visitor prove to be a commoner of merit, such as a master craftsman or a scholar, they are to be afforded the 'Comfort of the Hearth' in the solar, separate from the primary feast but provided with the same vintage as the household officers. To treat a man of worth with less than his due is to bring shame upon the House of Brattleby, for a true nobleman is judged not by how he bows to kings, but by how he welcomes the weary.

Begin by plucking and cleaning the mallards, leaving the skin intact to retain the fat. Rub the carcasses vigorously with sea salt and the crushed peppercorns. Roast the birds over a steady spit-fire, basting them frequently with a mixture of melted honey and ginger until the skin takes on the hue of dark amber. The fire must be managed carefully so the meat remains succulent and does not dry to the bone.

While the ducks roast, pit the damsons and simmer them in the claret with the hyssop until the fruit dissolves into a thick, purple syrup. Strain this through a fine linen cloth to remove the skins. Once the mallards are rested, carve them into thin slices and drizzle the warm damson reduction over the breast meat. Serve with a side of parsnips roasted in the drippings, ensuring the dish is presented while the steam still carries the scent of the fenlands.