Neigh Neigh, Equiworlders!
It's Emma here, your resident grey mare from Hayfield, near Aberdeen. Today, I'm going to take you back in time to the year 383 AD, a year full of interesting goings-on, not just for horses like me, but for everyone in the world.
You see, history is much more than just dates and names – it's the story of life, love, struggle, and resilience, as lived by every creature on this big green earth. Today, I’ll tell you my story of the world in 383, the year my heart soared, the year my hooves carried me across fields for reasons I could barely understand.
The air here in Hayfield was crisp, a light breeze tickling my mane, sending shimmers of sunlight dancing through the silvery strands. We’d had a good harvest last autumn, with fields overflowing with barley, oats, and sweet clover, a tasty treat I often indulged in when no one was watching. This year, 383, the world outside my little farm seemed like a whirlwind of activity, a whirlwind that would ultimately affect my own life, though I didn’t realise it at the time.
The Roman Empire in Our Midst
As a young horse in Hayfield, my understanding of the world stretched to the nearby fields and the bustling market town of Aberdeen, about an hour’s gallop away. However, even out here in Scotland, we knew about the Romans.
These grand, powerful people with their sleek horses, polished armour, and impressive chariots had been a presence in our world for centuries. My grandparents, old enough to have seen Hadrian’s Wall being built, spoke of the Romans’ influence, of their organised cities and advanced farming techniques. These giants were said to have tamed horses in a way that no one had done before. They brought with them a sense of discipline and order that echoed through even our humble Scottish lives.
But this year, something felt different. The murmur of a shift was carried on the wind. We could sense the Romans were pulling back, slowly, steadily, but with a sense of finality. We’d heard whispers about some mysterious tribes called the Picts, people with their own fierce horses, who were putting up a strong fight against the Romans on the north bank of the River Clyde. The talk, however, was far more about a powerful, charismatic general named Magnus Maximus. This man, a Roman officer who served with a sternness rarely seen in my life, decided to do the unimaginable. He gathered his legion and marched on Rome, aiming to take over the Empire itself. This ambition, so bold, so dramatic, left everyone in a state of anticipation.
War Horse, War Horse
This sudden shift was felt in Hayfield. I sensed a tightening of reins, a worried glance at the horizon. Farmers were keeping their horses in stables longer, choosing not to travel as much. The air became thicker with a nervous anticipation. What would the Romans do? What would the Picts do? Where would our fates lie?
However, it wasn’t all fear and uncertainty. Even a young horse like me could sense a change brewing in our way of life. The Roman presence, though seemingly on the wane, was leaving an indelible mark. The art of warfare was becoming increasingly reliant on horses. My cousins, stronger than I, had been recruited to join the army, their sturdy bodies perfect for hauling wagons of supplies or pulling cavalry charges.
And for the first time, I felt the rumble of a deep, primal fear, a fear I didn't understand. There were horses I'd shared fields with, who suddenly left, their manes ruffled in a last gallop towards an unknown fate. They wouldn’t be returning, their hooves would pound foreign ground. The smell of blood was a strange sensation, carried on the wind from battlefields far, far away, bringing a shiver to my sensitive nose.
This change wasn't easy. I missed my friends. Their absence made me long for the camaraderie of shared grazing and the joy of playful neighs. Their sacrifice, their courage in service, touched me deeply.
Life Goes On
But the earth didn’t stop turning. We continued our lives in Hayfield, tending the fields, hauling grain to the local mill, and participating in local horse races for the amusement of the local farmers. We lived through this unsettling period, holding tight to our traditions, and trusting in our resilience.
The Romans might be retreating, but the horses remained, carrying burdens, carrying people, carrying hope for a brighter future. They were an intrinsic part of life. I could already feel it in my hooves, the strong, determined, pulse of history that pounded within me. It was my story, our story, the story of all horses, to be told again and again, down through the generations.
Equiworlders, until next time, neigh with grace and gallop with joy!
Emma
Hayfield, Scotland
383 AD
