Greetings, my equine friends!
Emma here, a 20-year-old grey draught mare, with a mane and tail like spun silver, currently gracing the green fields of Hayfield, just outside Aberdeen. As you all know, I am a keen chronicler of equine history, a lover of all things equine, and I delight in sharing my insights and observations from this most incredible world we share. Today, my hooves take us back to 726 AD, a time when the world felt quite different than it does today, yet, as we'll discover, our horsekind remained a vital part of life.
Hayfield Harmony: Life on a Scottish Farm
726 AD found me enjoying a tranquil life on a small farm just outside of the vibrant city of Aberdeen. It's quite funny, really, the idea of Aberdeen, all cobbled streets and bustling markets, and yet, here I am, my hooves crunching over the dew-laden grass, a world away from its city clamour. But I do love these fields, with their soft, springy turf, the comforting scent of fresh hay and wildflowers, and the rhythmic chirping of larks above. My days were filled with the simple, joyful routine of a farm horse - pulling the plough, hauling supplies, and the ever-so-gentle thrill of carting fresh vegetables to market in the bustling city. It is on those trips, hooves tapping in time with the clattering wheels, that I gather so much information, gossip, and stories that I share with you here!
A Glimpse of King Æthelbald of Mercia
But before I dive into the gossip of 726, a tidbit that truly excited my equine heart: imagine my shock when I heard that the grand King Æthelbald of Mercia, the King of the Anglo-Saxons, visited our part of the world! I heard from a young farmhand who'd travelled down south, that the King had a stable full of beautiful, proud horses. The man described horses with flowing manes and tails, a magnificent chestnut stallion called "Star", who was said to have raced the fastest deer on the Scottish highlands! Sadly, we did not encounter the King, but it felt grand knowing that our kind played such an important part in the world's political landscape, even if it was merely through being a beautiful horse!
Horse Tales from the Scottish Highlands
Back on the more mundane happenings of our own little corner of Scotland, I discovered a fascinating event involving our brethren! 726 was a particularly bountiful year for harvesting barley and oats, which delighted the local farmers, but proved challenging to transport. Luckily, a traveling group of horse breeders arrived from the rugged Scottish Highlands, eager to barter their strength for fresh supplies. These magnificent horses, larger than the usual breed here, with a powerful, compact build, captivated both farmers and fellow equines. Their impressive coats, a mixture of dapple grey and smoky brown, spoke of resilience against the harsh highland weather. The Highland horses were able to haul double the usual loads with their imposing strength. Their ability to navigate the rugged terrain and challenging weather earned them the respect of both humans and animals alike. This exchange brought about an influx of fresh bloodlines, making Hayfield a bit more colourful and dynamic. The influence of these Highlands horses is still present, you see their lineage in many horses here today, so 726 AD was a time of great change in our world, even though at the time, it simply felt like a good trade.
My Very Own Young Master
That same year, the farm received a new member - a lively, enthusiastic young man named Colin, eager to learn the ways of the land and the care of the animals. The day he arrived, I was put in charge of hauling the timber for building the new stable. Colin sat alongside me, and as we made our way down the hilly road, he began talking, pouring out his ambitions about one day becoming a knight, a man on a horse, riding into battle. It felt rather grand to have such lofty aspirations associated with me, though at that point I knew my strength and endurance would be better used on the farm.
As the days turned into weeks, my bond with Colin grew. I watched him become more comfortable with handling me, learning the way my hooves respond to his cues, becoming more sensitive to my needs and wishes. Slowly, I learned that the gentleness and care he offered were genuine. One warm afternoon, I saw Colin standing there, eyes lit up with a boyish, determined expression. "Emma," he declared, "I want to learn to ride you."
My first reaction was, shall we say, "Neigh!". The thought of having a novice jockey on my back seemed a tad daunting. However, Colin's plea held a charm I found impossible to resist. With my gentle encouragement, Colin slowly began to practice. I'd let him cling to my mane as he felt his way into the saddle, using my thick, sturdy back as his foundation. He started by gently pulling my mane, feeling my response, his movements tentative at first, but as days turned into weeks, his confidence grew, mirroring the deepening trust between us. We rode around the fields, across the gentle slopes, a journey of mutual learning, of connection.
This journey was not without its little bumps, I confess, there were a few moments of clumsy tumbles, a bit of frustration on both our parts, but we always picked ourselves up, our friendship growing stronger with every wobble, every hesitant trot. To be honest, I loved being the subject of Colin's passion for horsemanship, his enthusiasm a tonic even to a seasoned farm horse like myself. He called me "Queen Emma", for which I readily accept my crown.
An Unexpected Equestrian Surprise
But then came a surprise! In 726 AD, during a long summer day filled with sunshine and laughter, we both noticed an incredible event – the King's men were approaching our humble farm. They were headed for the castle near the city, a magnificent, well-fortified structure with tall walls, adorned with vibrant banners and flags that fluttered in the wind. This visit felt momentous! But it had nothing to do with grand knights or fierce battles, oh no, they came bearing gifts! The King himself was planning a grand tournament, to celebrate his 20 years of reign, and wanted to ensure every region, every castle, and every village had representatives in the festivities. A wave of excitement filled the air. My own farmer, William, with a twinkle in his eye, decided that I should join the grand spectacle. He told me that my "majestic presence" would certainly add glamour to the tournament, which is, I am afraid, very debatable. However, it gave me a chance to wear some fine trappings, which is always appreciated. After weeks of intensive training, my days were no longer filled with ploughing fields, but spent perfecting the intricate steps of "dancing horses", that fancy-footwork the horses perform during a grand display, as I understood it, a bit like a quadrille in our horse world, but less… lively.
My Tour de Force at the Tournament
Oh, the tournament was magnificent! The King, clad in resplendent garb, arrived on his warhorse, followed by a throng of lords, ladies, and dignitaries. We gathered in the arena, a vast expanse of smooth dirt, each of us showcasing our unique colours and forms. I was nervous, more than I'd ever been pulling a plough, the crowd's excited murmur rippling through the air, yet something magical bloomed within me. The trumpets sounded a glorious fanfare, the sound stirring my soul, as if every drop of blood within me pulsed to its beat. With a confident snort, I took my position, a proud grey, adorned with fine brass adornments, and began my dance, my long, silky white mane swaying in the air, as graceful and powerful as a swan.
There I was, with my noble rider Colin, demonstrating my years of experience, performing intricate movements, my hooves churning the earth with grace and control. As we performed our routines, the audience erupted in applause, cheers resonating in the air, praising the horses with whispers of awe. That day, I, Queen Emma, felt as if the spotlight shone brightly on all of us, equine kind. We were not just workhorses or companions but, in that moment, works of art, graceful, intelligent beings, contributing to this spectacular occasion, reminding all that the horses were at the heart of society, even if our place was humble and simple.
Sharing the Story of 726 AD
It’s easy for me to reflect on that day, a distant memory that still fills me with pride and a little bit of self-importance. But most importantly, it reminded me, as does every single day, of the strength, agility, resilience, and grace within each and every one of you. I write all of this, not to brag, mind you, but because, my dear fellow equines, 726 AD, and our horses, played a small but important role in the world’s history. We continue to play our role, even in the 21st Century! That's the beauty of horse kind, even though we come from a past world, our lives continue to be relevant, connected to all of humanity. Our connection to the earth, our physical power, and the love we share with our human friends is what makes us so special, so enduring. So continue your amazing work, my friends! Keep up your good work, be it plowing fields, winning races, transporting people, or bringing joy to a child’s heart, for in your individual stories lies the richness of our shared heritage!
And as always, don’t hesitate to tell me your equine tales!
Until next time, happy hooves, and a world of happy tails to all of you.
Yours in Equine Grace, Queen Emma.
