Hello, fellow equines! Emma here, a fine grey draught mare from the Scottish Highlands. Today's date is the 17th of March, 831 A.D. It's a lovely spring day here in Hayfield, near Aberdeen. The air is crisp and clear, the heather is beginning to bloom, and I can feel the warmth of the sun on my coat as I munch on the lush spring grass.
Life is good in the Highlands, despite what you might have heard about those fearsome Vikings who come down from the North now and then. We usually have little to worry about up here – we're a sturdy lot and strong enough to fight off anything those fierce raiders throw at us. Of course, the occasional howl of a wolf or the sight of a fierce red fox slinking past can set my heart racing, but it's mostly calm and quiet up here, and the people are kind to their horses.
Now, I want to tell you all about what it's like to be a horse in these times, particularly this very special year, 831 A.D., which will forever be memorable because of something extraordinary...
Let me first tell you about what my life is like here. You might be surprised to hear that not all horses lead the same life. In Hayfield, most of us are part of the local community, and each of us has an important role. Some are strong workhorses, used for plowing fields and hauling goods to market. There are sturdy steeds bred for travel, swift ponies, and small, elegant horses used for transport and racing by the noble folk. And then there's me.
I love my work! See, I'm one of the luckier ones who lives a comfortable life with the Miller's family, a kind and hardworking couple who own the mill at the edge of town. I spend most of my days pulling the heavy mill wheel which helps turn the grain into flour. It's a steady job, though physically demanding at times. However, my strong build allows me to handle it with ease. My days start early – we rise with the sun, so it's often dark as we leave the stables. It gets light later in the summer. And since the Miller is a man of faith, we stop in the morning at the local church and spend a few moments praying before we head off to work.
Evenings are quieter, and the whole farm has a sense of calm about it. We're fed hay, cleaned, and cared for. During the cold winter nights, the Millers will often leave the stable door open just a little bit to let the heat of the stove drift through and keep us cosy. The Millers are truly wonderful. Sometimes the Miller takes me out for rides around the fields, letting me gallop across the open countryside. He's an experienced horseman and has always taken good care of me.
But now back to my story!
This year has been remarkable for two important reasons.
The first was the annual harvest festival held at the end of summer. The festival is always a special time – there’s music and dancing, good food and drink, and the villagers all come together to celebrate. But this year was even more special because it marked the beginning of a new era for the people of Hayfield!
That year, the community built their very own marketplace! It happened because the King - whose name is Alfred, by the way, a kind and noble man – issued a decree. He stated that the Vikings had become too powerful, and it was important for people to be united against them. He instructed people all over the land to strengthen their settlements and prepare to fight if needed. To achieve this, the King believed it was vital for each settlement to have a marketplace. That way, the people could come together, share resources, trade, and be better prepared to deal with any problems.
Now, the Hayfield marketplace was no ordinary market. The villagers did more than simply exchange goods there; they also met and talked, exchanged ideas, and worked together to strengthen their defences against Vikings. Our local church priest played a leading role in organising the community. He inspired people with tales of bravery and selflessness, teaching them to stay strong and work together in the face of any threats. He made sure the market was a safe space for everyone – from blacksmiths and farmers to young maidens and strong men, and, of course, horses, who carried heavy loads and contributed in countless ways.
As for the marketplace, it’s buzzing with activity now – always a delight for my human friends to look at. I am lucky, though, because I don’t spend much time at the market. My Miller spends more time looking after our fields and mill than shopping for goods.
However, it is impossible to miss the vibrant energy emanating from the marketplace. You can see, hear, and smell all the activities! I hear stories from my friends about the bustling scene there – there are stalls bursting with fruits and vegetables, freshly-baked bread, cheeses, hand-made pottery, textiles, and so many other things. You can hear laughter and lively conversations. I love it!
And now comes the second extraordinary event of 831! I was witness to it myself.
Do you remember that terrible day in September? It was a blustery autumn day. I remember it was a Monday, because the Miller had gone to the church that morning for service and only returned at noon.
I had finished my work that morning and was enjoying a delicious meal of freshly-cut grass and barley. I could smell the scent of sweet hay, the sweet scent of woodsmoke from the Millers’ chimney, and the faint smell of the sea air – the ocean is just a few miles from here, you see.
All was calm until there came a sound that I shall never forget.
It was the clang of metal, a piercing and urgent sound that sent shivers down my spine. The Millers heard it too. We were in the stable yard, just inside the barn. They both looked at me – the Miller’s wife with her face filled with concern, and the Miller himself with his eyes gleaming with worry and anger.
They turned their heads and looked toward the town. They exchanged a hurried glance and then turned back to me.
"Go to the barn," the Miller instructed me. "You stay in the barn with the rest of the horses.” His voice had a new firmness to it.
“Why?” I whinnied. But I knew better than to ask any further questions. I followed my human friends’ instructions. I turned to go back into the barn. My feet hardly touched the ground as I ran back into the barn and toward the other horses who stood inside.
They were all whispering. I felt the fear radiating from them, their coats bristling, their breathing rapid. Something was wrong.
I joined the other horses and pressed my head into their warm bodies for comfort. I could sense the anxiety and fear radiating from them.
My human friends then quickly rushed back to the town. The shouts and calls that came from them sounded panicked. I tried to stay calm. But deep down, I knew that something was about to happen.
What I couldn’t comprehend was that it was Viking ships on the coast – we all heard stories, but I'd never witnessed such a thing. They were strong boats, with fierce and imposing warriors. These were men who came to conquer.
The Miller and his wife were well known and respected in our village, and we horses knew that they would be in danger. They always fought bravely against injustice and wrong-doing, and they never backed down from a challenge.
The villagers had worked hard and created a strong settlement with sturdy defences – there were thick wooden walls, moats, and high gates. They were a brave people who always worked together to protect their homes and their families. And we horses, like the faithful creatures that we are, we supported them.
I stayed in the barn with the other horses, knowing that I had a job to do. I felt that I needed to be ready, to be strong. To stay brave. To be ready to do what needed to be done to support my people and protect my friends.
But something truly unexpected happened. We all saw the Vikings attack. It happened before dusk. The Miller and the rest of the men prepared for the fight.
From the barn window, we saw the scene unfold – the fierce battle, the clang of swords, and the brave men fighting for their home. Then we heard a deep booming sound – it was a bell that was being rung in the tower of the church.
That’s when we heard the sound of the galloping horses, running hard.
And it’s when my life changed. It changed in a way I couldn’t have imagined.
I joined the other horses to see the brave riders emerge, from the dusty roads leading to our settlement. And, we saw the King.
He led the riders. It was the same King Alfred who had given the decree about the market, and it was he who said we should all work together and stand united against the threat. He rode on a powerful horse with fierce eyes. His presence inspired courage.
I could feel a strong energy radiating from him as he spoke to our villagers.
And as he addressed our village, I could hear my heart thump with pride, and I felt this growing sense of unity that seemed to flow throughout all the people in Hayfield and through us horses as well.
Our people were brave. We would face this threat. And we would overcome!
What made this even more special – was that it was the King who spoke those words! And, it was the King himself who reminded everyone of our common bond as we joined hands against these invaders! He brought everyone together.
Now, it was a tough battle. The Viking Raiders were ferocious. But we were ready, all of us – men, women, children, horses, and even the little goats – we were united to protect what we loved and defend our homes! It was the King who led everyone and encouraged them to be strong.
That day, I knew that 831 A.D would go down in history as a year of incredible unity and courage. And it would always be remembered in Hayfield as the year the King visited, the year he led us against the enemy, the year we worked together to protect our community.
The battle raged for hours. It was a bloody, chaotic scene that tested us all. But, through it all, we felt strong because we were all working together – a mighty force to reckon with. In the end, our villagers prevailed! They drove the Vikings back and chased them out of our lands.
There was joy, relief, and celebration after the Vikings retreated. We had survived and we were safe. The King thanked us all, praised our strength and bravery. He especially acknowledged the role the horses played that day. He called them "Our Faithful Allies", and said they had made an important contribution in driving the enemy out.
Since then, every day I walk proudly knowing I helped save our home, and I am honoured to be a horse in the Hayfield community.
I don't know what next year will bring – it’s just the start of spring and the land is still awakening. But I’m sure that whatever challenges come our way, we’ll meet them with the same courage and determination as we faced the Vikings this past year. I am happy to live a simple life here in the Highlands – the good food, the stable shelter, the kindness of the Miller's family, and the sense of community. This is home, this is my world. And it is an extraordinary one!
This is Emma signing out.
Hope to see you all here next time, for the next instalment of the Horse History blog!
