History of Horses in the year 0412

Greetings, fellow equines! Emma here, from the beautiful Hayfield near Aberdeen. As the winter wind bites at my hooves, I'm taking a moment to reflect on the year that was – 0412. It's been a year of change, both in the world around me and in my own heart.

Firstly, let me confess – writing these blog posts isn't my usual routine. It's my lovely human companion, Janet, who's coaxed me into sharing my thoughts and experiences. She tells me it's important to preserve history, to record the lives and times of horses like me. And well, she's always so kind, I can't deny her! So, grab yourselves a hay bale, find a cozy spot in the stable, and let's dive into my journey through the year 0412.

As the snow melted, and the air smelled of new grass and blooming heather, I felt a familiar stir in my heart. The change in seasons meant it was time for another breeding season! As the herd's strongest mare, the other horses look to me for leadership. My presence keeps them calm, and my strong hooves, honed for a life of hauling and pulling, help keep the youngsters in line.

But this year felt different. Perhaps it was the feeling in the air – the whispers of unrest I felt from humans as far away as England – or maybe it was a yearning I felt deep in my heart.

Then, the young stallion arrived. A spirited grey with a coat as glossy as polished silk. I had never been so drawn to a horse, felt such a pull. The bond we felt, the unspoken language of glances and gestures, told me that he was meant to be with me, not just another member of the herd. And sure enough, after a beautiful springtime, I found myself expecting a foal – our little spark of hope in a changing world.

My human, Janet, and her father, the farm owner, are the most wonderful folk. They know how to treat a horse, understand her needs, and provide for her well. This summer, they were preoccupied with stories from the south. Humans, in their vast numbers, were at war again! It brought anxiety, but also a kind of restlessness that spread amongst us horses. The constant coming and going of the humans, the murmurs about skirmishes and battles, even reached our quiet fields.

One morning, a strange man arrived on a grey mare, eyes full of worry, speaking of hardship and the need for protection. He told a story of another human, who was cruel to animals and harassed horses. My blood boiled as I listened, a hot anger building. How dare anyone inflict such pain and fear upon a horse? I felt it deep within me - the urge to protect, to stand against cruelty, a power I didn't know I possessed.

The stranger's mare, a powerful black creature, held the same spark of rebellion that burned within me. They spent many nights in our stable, telling stories and whispering hopes of a better world. His presence felt calming, like a balm to the unsettling stories of war. But as the days passed, a tension crept in. He spoke of another horse, a stallion, stolen and used as a tool for violence. That evening, he departed with his black mare, and a hollowness filled the air in his absence. His mission, his hope, lay with finding that lost stallion, his journey driven by an almost fierce loyalty.

My foal was born in autumn – a beautiful filly with white socks on her legs and a gentle spirit. My heart swelled with a protectiveness so strong, it felt like a physical force. This new life, this little one I would give my life for, demanded all my strength. She, my little spark of joy, helped to heal the ache of the stranger's departure, to turn my attention back to the life and the simple comforts of a farm.

Autumn days meant work, though. Harvesting time was always demanding. Janet, my companion, would help with pulling carts laden with ripe potatoes and hauling hay to prepare for the coming winter. There was a sense of satisfaction, a sense of unity as we worked together. Her kind hands brushing my mane and neck, her warm presence close by – it brought a calmness, a sense of purpose that settled into the turmoil of the world.

But with every passing week, the tension rose. Janet's father kept talking of "Saxon Kings", "English soldiers" and "fierce raids", his eyes filled with a kind of worry I couldn't quite understand. The humans, in their constant debates, failed to realize that their constant talk and hushed whispers carried through to the horses. We, too, lived in the shadows of their fear, our world shaken by their unpredictable whims.

As the frost crept across the land, painting a blanket of white on the fields, a new feeling started to creep in. It felt like a cold chill, not from the winter wind, but from the deep fear that was growing in the humans around me. Janet, though usually ever so bright and smiling, grew quieter, her movements becoming slow and hesitant. The laughter of her father seemed to have a strained quality, as if there was something weighing heavy on his mind.

And then, the first rumours came – rumours that spoke of horrible events that took place far from our tranquil hayfield, of armies marching in columns, of land seized and crops burned, of frightened families huddled in fear. Janet's father spoke of “barbarians” who had come to plunder and steal, words filled with a bitterness I had never heard before. He started taking extra precautions, locking stable doors at night, keeping watch on the humans who moved through the land.

We horses felt this sense of dread. It resonated through the stable as we huddled together for warmth. We had always been connected, sensing each other’s fears and anxieties, and in those moments, our unity seemed to strengthen. But it wasn't just our humans who were fearful, our instinctive awareness whispered a message of unforeseen danger. We could feel something ominous gathering, like a storm gathering over the horizon.

The end of the year brought the familiar feeling of introspection. It wasn't the time for reflection on victories and achievements, as in past years. No, this year was shadowed by unease. The coming winter, we all knew, would be colder, harder, more challenging. We had witnessed the effects of fear on our human world, the fear that festered and fuelled the battles, the fear that echoed in the rustling of the leaves and whispered through the fields.

My mare and I sought refuge in each other's presence. Our bond had become a lifeline, the light of hope that shone through the dark of uncertain times. My foal, now strong enough to take her first steps without my guidance, held the promise of resilience, of a future despite the world's troubles. As we stood together under the soft moonlight, bathed in a cold winter chill, we knew our future depended on the strength of our bond, and on the courage to overcome the uncertainties that lay ahead.

The year 0412 may have ended, but its story lives on in my memory. The whispers of war, the quiet anxieties, and the hope we found in unity - they all leave their mark. As I tuck my little filly into her bed of hay, a sense of responsibility settles in. I must share the stories of this year, for future generations to understand the hardships and the lessons learned. Perhaps, in sharing, we can forge a future where our world, both human and horse, is not driven by fear, but by compassion and love.

Till next time, fellow equines. May your days be filled with warmth and peace. And may the coming year bring only hope, and joy.

Emma

Hayfield, Scotland

0413 AD