Hello my darling ponies, and welcome back to my little corner of EquiWorld! This week, I'm venturing way back in time, all the way to the year 262 AD, a journey back to a time when the world was a very different place. As always, my lovely readers, this will be a story from my own experiences, and just like always, a story about the fabulous horses, and the ways they have made history.
It was a blustery day in Hayfield, just outside Aberdeen in Scotland. It's so hard to explain what it was like back then to you young horses! I was only 20, but my grey coat was already starting to get those lovely silver flecks, you know, those that show a horse's experience, like the white lines in a human's hair.
The air was crisp, a tang of salt, a memory of the sea and all its moods, you know. Just like here at Hayfield, the wind always seemed to sing its own wild tune. That day, though, the wind brought more than just the usual whiff of brine. It brought the scent of far-off places, lands I’d only heard whisperings about. A heady mix of pine and smoke, hinting at fires burning far to the south, and the sharp scent of the ocean, hinting at long voyages.
It was the day a travelling merchant arrived at the Hayfield stables, bringing news. Now, you may find it hard to believe this, but not every single farm in those days was stocked with shiny computer screens showing instant news of the whole world! So news arrived with humans who’d seen things for themselves. This man spoke with passion about a distant Roman province, all the way in the lands that are called Britain today. I remember his description – vast walls built of stones that towered over the land.
The Romans were big on walls, you see, because, as they explained, it meant you had to walk in through the gate, see? Made sense to me, those walls. Much better than some pesky beast like a boar, or, dare I say, an enemy soldier sneaking in unannounced! They built the walls for safety. He described men in uniform, strong horses in bronze-studded armor. Their names, he said, were cavalry. He spoke of fierce fights for those lands – but these men had something to do with that – to do with making sure the walls kept their people safe.
And there I was, back in 262 AD. A powerful grey draught horse, my sturdy legs a familiar sight in Hayfield, hauling plows through the fields and pulling heavy loads to market. All the while, I had an instinct, a sort of gut feeling, that horses were also having an impact further afield. A connection to this new world he spoke of - and I, as any horse knows, has the strong connection to her kind.
I found myself dreaming of what this new world of cavalry and walls was like. I dreamt of galloping under open skies, with the wind whipping through my mane. I imagined powerful steeds bearing riders clad in gleaming armor, their horses sleek and strong. It was such a romantic vision! And there is something romantic about strong, noble animals carrying humans through dangerous, and, well, I admit it, important moments in human history, wouldn't you agree, girls? The thought filled me with excitement, a yearning to experience something grander, something beyond the familiar, earthy smells of my life in Hayfield.
Now, you might be wondering, Emma, "How do we know horses played a part in the Roman Empire?". Well, we have quite a few ways we know it's true! One, they loved their cavalry! They needed speed and power and horses had both in spades, didn’t they? They also wrote about it, and they depicted it. These old, lovely artists created carvings on walls, drawings, and beautiful paintings showing strong Roman soldiers on horses. These pictures show horses of all shapes and sizes, from powerful steeds like mine, to the speedier, lithe steeds of the plains. I mean, you just can’t deny how important they were to their lives. And you know what, horses aren’t so different in 2023 – we're still helping people around the world, still in demand for carrying loads and in sports. It is still amazing how they’ve changed humanity’s way of living over thousands of years! It's in their blood, and so much in ours.
Anyway, the merchant left Hayfield, the wind died down, and the smell of pine and salt vanished, leaving only the scent of damp earth and the usual sea air. I felt a bit of that old ache, that longing for adventure, even if I knew I’d never see these Roman lands, never ride with those men of armor. Still, that small glimpse into the bigger world was enough to fill my heart with wonder. It was the kind of feeling that makes every horse want to throw its head back and whinny at the sky!
The years passed. The days turned to seasons, and the seasons turned to years. Horses in the north, like me, worked their daily routine. The land always needs strong backs to move it and harvest its bounty, no matter what’s going on in the world! Life moved at its own, slower pace. But in my heart, a tiny echo of those far-away events kept whispering, telling me that history is a long story, and we, the horses, are part of that story. Every single day. Every whinny, every step, every sniff of a freshly turned field adds a new page to our equine story. It is what makes us so fascinating, wouldn’t you say, dears?
It reminds me, even today, to appreciate my life. Even if life hasn’t taken me far beyond my Hayfield home, I am grateful for every moment I am alive, breathing in the air of freedom, smelling the familiar scents of hay and earth, and feeling the rhythmic pulse of my own hooves beating on the ground. This, too, is a piece of history. This too is important! The strong horses pulling carts for market are important, even today! That's something no computer screen or galloping knight can ever truly show. Even for a horse who lived in 262, life can be just as important as life for a horse living in the year 2023.
Don’t forget, darlings, this isn’t just a tale from the distant past. It’s a story for us, the horses, right now. We may be far removed from the gladiators and warriors, the marching legions, but every time we pull a plow, help with a farmer’s chore, we are making a difference. We’re building a part of the story, a small piece of history that continues every day. I’m Emma, and that makes my old grey heart very proud. See you all next week!
