Greetings fellow equine enthusiasts!
My name is Emma, and I’m a 20-year-old grey draught horse with a mane and tail the colour of fresh snow. I'm from the village of Hayfield, near Aberdeen, and for many moons now I've been chronicling the world through the eyes of a horse – you know, all the goings-on that matter most in the world of equine!
The year is 548. We’ve got the glorious smell of heather in the air, a brisk spring chill still clinging to the morning mist, and the promise of long, sun-drenched days just around the corner. Here in Hayfield, the world is as familiar as the creaking of the wooden cart that I pull for the local miller. I know every bend of the road, every meadow brimming with clover, and every stream sparkling with cool, clear water.
But while things feel constant here in my little world, life in the world outside Hayfield is bustling and changing.
A Whisper of Empire
Let's talk about the big players in the world. Just a bit further south, there's a group of people known as the Romans. Now, I haven’t encountered any myself, but rumour has it they used to travel through these parts – fancy folk with chariots, legions of horses, and roads as straight as a line! Their power, they say, stretched far and wide, reaching from Spain to the heart of this great land we call Britain.
But those Roman roads – still there for us to see! – are falling into disrepair. People tell tales of their armies and their legions disappearing, leaving their empire in pieces, leaving things a bit… unsteady, shall we say. It’s as if they vanished from this land like mist on a warm morning. The Romans may be gone, but their legacy lives on. Their knowledge of horses and horseshoes helped spread the practice across this land. I think those people certainly knew a thing or two about horse care – and who am I to say no, when they brought such sturdy iron to my own hooves?
Warring Kingdoms
There are new players on the field, it seems – folks who have been busy carving up the remnants of that great empire into smaller kingdoms, a bit like carving up a delicious apple, each piece claiming its own space and dominion. In the south, King Arthur, they call him. They whisper of him sitting upon a majestic horse, his lance held high. This is a period of fierce, but not always relentless, fighting – it’s not an age of endless battles and endless blood. There’s still time to farm the land, for babies to be born, and for feasts to be held under the light of the moon.
Now, even if our little world here in Hayfield is peaceful, the echoes of these conflicts are always present. The blacksmiths are busier than ever, repairing broken armour and tools. Some men return home scarred, their tales a whispered warning. And a few… a few find themselves longing for the distant lands beyond the sea, where the Romans, those people with their well-trained horses, had once ventured.
The Importance of Horses
Don't be fooled, though, just because the Romans are gone and new kingdoms are emerging, the world is far from silent. People travel far and wide, horses helping them move through the changing seasons, across muddy moors, and along paths edged with blooming hawthorn. We are essential companions for both peace and for battle.
It’s how it’s always been: Horses – we're the lifeblood of the land! Without us, there’d be no crops, no transport, no trade, no exploration, no building… even no good storytelling. Our role in every part of life is paramount. Imagine hauling loads of barley from the farm to the mill! Or bringing merchants and pilgrims to towns from distant villages! Or… Oh, my heart! Imagine galloping with the king's army!
There are the smaller breeds – the ponies, as sleek and nimble as a lark. They're often chosen as swift companions for messengers and travelers, zipping through fields with news from distant shores.
Then there are the magnificent steeds. Those fine-boned, powerful horses are admired for their beauty, but they're not meant for heavy labour. Oh, those noble steeds are a delight to watch!
A Horse's Work is Never Done
There's a certain pride, I must say, in a draught horse’s work. It's a simple life, yet satisfying in a way no fine steed could understand. It's the gentle thud of my hooves on the earth, the scent of fresh-baked bread wafting from the miller’s cottage, and the rumble of the wagon wheels – it all brings me comfort. And then, when the day's work is done, there’s the satisfying clink of my stall door, the comfort of a warm bed of straw, and the calming sight of the stars peeking through the darkness of night.
The days of the Romans may be gone, but the horses, the knights, and their mighty steeds still live on.
Oh, what an exciting time to be a horse in 548!
Until next time, stay strong and neigh on, friends!
Emma
PS: My own human companions tell tales of horses like myself being sent to new lands – far away, beyond the rolling green hills and across the endless blue sea. Apparently, some of my kind find themselves working on large, wooden ships called longships, hauling anchors and carrying the proud banners of foreign kings! That seems an adventure for another time… Perhaps I will tell you more in my next post.
