#841
Hello there, dear readers! Emma here, a proud grey mare with a flowing white mane and tail. It's a bit blustery today here in Hayfield, near Aberdeen. A strong, crisp wind whips through the barley fields, sending shivers down my spine. Even though it's autumn, the air still holds a touch of summer's warmth.
As I graze in the pasture, the golden fields remind me of something special… of my great adventure earlier this year, back when the sun was high in the sky, the fields lush with green, and the days longer. I know you love hearing my tales, so today I want to take you back to 0841 AD.
It was a year that began with a soft, gentle whisper of change. My dear friend, Angus, a magnificent chestnut stallion, told me about rumours circulating in the village. They spoke of King Æthelwulf of Wessex making a grand pilgrimage to Rome.
He said, "Emma, imagine it! To travel such a distance, past rivers and mountains, and to journey into a place that echoes with history. I’ve heard they even have marble buildings in Rome – truly magnificent!"
Angus's excitement was infectious. He had been to Edinburgh, a mere day's ride away, and declared it a sight to behold. To travel to a foreign land like Rome, across vast stretches of the world, sounded absolutely captivating.
However, being a strong and dependable draught horse, my world was rooted firmly in Hayfield. My responsibilities lay within these fields, in hauling plows through rich soil and transporting heavy goods for our lord. My purpose was clear, my routine predictable, yet a small part of me yearned for adventure, for new horizons.
As weeks passed, the rumours intensified, and my dreams began to intertwine with the bustling activity in Hayfield. Carts were being loaded, provisions prepared, and there was a noticeable excitement in the air. The talk was all about the pilgrimage, about a royal convoy bound for distant shores.
And then, it happened.
A young nobleman, Alexander, visited our stables one evening. I remember how his voice resonated with youthful energy as he explained his mission: "My Lord desires a sturdy, trustworthy horse for his journey. You, Emma, have been chosen. You will carry our provisions, our prayers, and our hopes to Rome."
I felt a surge of pride, mixed with a knot of nervousness. This journey was beyond anything I had ever imagined, beyond the familiar landscapes of Scotland. I was being asked to embark on a monumental quest, a pilgrimage of faith, across a world I could only dream of.
Early the following morning, with a heavy heart and a touch of excitement, I bid farewell to Hayfield. I remember the smell of the earth under my hooves as we crossed the barley fields, leaving the familiarity of home behind.
The days that followed were a tapestry of landscapes and experiences. We journeyed south, passing through bustling villages and ancient ruins, across vast moors where the wind whispered secrets, and through lush valleys painted with wildflowers.
It wasn't an easy journey. The miles stretched before us, sometimes relentlessly. I learned the rhythm of travel, the gruelling climb of steep hills, the sweltering heat under the summer sun, and the refreshing respite of cool mountain springs. We were part of a convoy of horses, mules, and oxen, all laden with supplies and led by the determined pilgrims.
Within the convoy, I was no longer a mere farm animal. I was a crucial piece in a grand plan, a silent witness to an intricate dance of faith, strength, and human spirit. We shared our stories around the crackling campfire at night, our gentle whinnies blending with the murmur of voices.
I saw fear and determination on the faces of the pilgrims, saw them struggle with fatigue, thirst, and even illness. But I also saw their courage and resilience. Their eyes sparkled with anticipation for the distant goal. Their voices rose in song as they celebrated each new dawn, their faith unwavering despite the hardship.
There were times when my own fear took root. The thunderous storms that shook the earth, the relentless hunger, the weariness that tugged at my strength - all tested me. Yet, amidst it all, a newfound strength bloomed within me.
I found myself learning a new language. It wasn't just the guttural calls of fellow horses, or the human commands, but a language of understanding, a shared connection woven from hardship and shared hope. I carried not only food and supplies, but prayers and dreams, woven into the fabric of our journey.
Through rolling hills and verdant plains, we walked across England and then onto the vastness of France. We navigated across the magnificent Alps, the mountains casting long shadows as we traversed their challenging passes. The crisp mountain air filled my nostrils with the scent of pine and granite.
Across the plains of Italy we traveled, each sunrise painting the landscape in a new colour palette, each sunset ushering in the stillness of the night. And then, we arrived at our destination - Rome, the Eternal City.
I won’t lie, it was like stepping into another world. Marble palaces rose majestically against a clear blue sky. People thronged the streets, their languages unfamiliar yet captivating. The air hummed with energy and a palpable buzz of human activity.
I walked with pride as our caravan entered Rome. The pilgrims knelt, filled with a mixture of awe and gratitude. My heart thrummed with the excitement and energy that surged around us. I had arrived at a place of history, a crossroads of the world, a sanctuary for souls seeking faith.
I stayed in Rome for a long time, feeling the weight of its past, and witnessing the reverence it inspired in the pilgrims. It felt as though I had become part of history, my journey woven into the fabric of this great city.
But my story didn’t end in Rome. The journey back, just like the journey out, was a tapestry of adventures and trials. We travelled along familiar paths, my heart burdened by the distance from my Hayfield home. But as I journeyed back, I felt different, transformed by the experiences I had lived, the places I had seen, and the emotions I had carried.
I realised that even though I was just a simple horse, my journey was significant, my contribution invaluable.
Upon our return, I received a warm welcome, a sense of recognition for the miles I had walked, for the challenges I had faced, and for the part I had played in a story much larger than myself.
My time in 0841 AD was unforgettable. It was a journey of transformation, where I discovered not just new landscapes, but a deeper sense of my own purpose. It showed me that beyond my daily work in the fields, I could be more than a draught horse, I could be an adventurer, a companion, a carrier of hope, and a testament to the resilience of the spirit.
As I stand here today, looking at the familiar barley fields, the memory of that journey echoes in my heart. I feel grateful, not just for the adventures, but for the strength and wisdom it bestowed upon me. I know I'm still the sturdy, dependable draught horse from Hayfield, but I'm also an explorer, a traveler, a witness to history, forever changed by the great journey of 0841 AD.
Stay tuned for my next post where I’ll delve into another memorable year in my equine life!
Emma, Hayfield, Scotland
www.equiworld.org
