History of Horses in the year 0983

Posted by Emma, Hayfield, Aberdeen, Scotland

Greetings, fellow equines!

It's Emma here, a grey mare with a fondness for wildflowers and a passion for history, penning this little entry from my lovely stable in Hayfield, just outside Aberdeen. As you know, I love delving into the past, sniffing out forgotten stories about horses like me, and today, my dear readers, we're travelling back in time to a very special year: 0983.

Let's just take a moment to marvel at that, shall we? The world was a very different place then! There was still plenty of open countryside, much of which wasn't even grazed by horses.

Now, if you ask me, 0983 was quite a busy year for horses. We weren't just plodding around fields. Oh no, we were right at the heart of things! In this time, before those modern inventions like carriages and steam engines, we were the main mode of transportation, carrying people, pulling goods, and even engaging in the noble art of war.

Here in Scotland, my life was relatively simple, even if I was still quite young then, barely a foal at the time. I belonged to Lord Gordon, a good man who ran his estate with fairness. His kindest act, in my opinion, was to let us horses graze on his meadows for much of the year. They were green as emerald, a real haven after the cold winters.

Oh, those Scottish winters were something else! Biting winds that whipped across the moor, ice crystals forming on our coats. I remember huddling together with my stable mates, finding solace in our shared warmth and whickering encouragement. Those tough days only made me appreciate the warmth of summer even more. We’d spend hours rolling in the long grass, munching on sweet clover, and basking under the big, bright sun.

Of course, summer wasn't all play. My stablemates and I were always on the go. Our primary duty was pulling the plow through the fields. We would often start with dawn, pulling furrow after furrow, tilling the land for barley and oats. The air would be filled with the sweet smell of earth and sunshine, making each long day a little less tiring.

After the fields were tended, we helped move timber to the workshops, or hauled firewood into the kitchens. It was grueling work, but we were strong and capable, our hooves the steady rhythm that kept the entire estate functioning.

We had a good life, but it wasn't without its anxieties. I can still recall the tremor that went through the whole stable, the quickening of our heartbeats when news of Viking raids came to our peaceful valley. We’d be put in enclosed stables for days, guarded by men and their hunting dogs, with their fiery and loyal eyes. Even as a foal, I could sense their anger, the frustration of being threatened by foreign forces, and their resolve to defend their home.

My best friend, a wise old gelding named Angus, was always saying, “It's an unpredictable time, young Emma. The Vikings are everywhere! They ride hard, these raiders, they swoop down from the north with axes and anger. We’ve never seen a sight quite like them!”

But it’s strange how humans react. You see, Angus, being a good friend, he warned me of danger. And even when news came that these Viking Raiders had indeed descended upon us, terror was in my heart, as Angus had warned. It was true. But there were other emotions amongst the people as well, emotions I don’t think we would have thought of as horses. It wasn’t just fear, not at all, but a determination to drive them away.

For many years, they stayed. They left Scotland just as suddenly, I understand, before being forced to face those terrifying King Harold forces back home, after winning great victories over the Welsh and Scots alike. But as horses, we felt all that tension in the atmosphere – it’s not something easily forgotten, that's for sure!

But those raiders also had a funny way about them, as far as horses go. You see, there was talk that the Norse raiders brought strong, nimble, beautiful horses with them, just as sleek and speedy as they were themselves. We heard stories of those mighty steeds! Apparently they were quite fast and strong, but rather unpredictable and very fond of leaping. I often wondered if they could gallop as fast as the winds, their manes flying, their eyes ablaze with courage. I can just picture them on a breezy hillside, their nostrils flaring, their legs thundering. The very sight of them would stir my spirit!

Those Viking raiders sure left their mark, didn't they?

The year 0983 was a pivotal year. That was when the great, wise King Kenneth II came to the throne of Scotland. People say his arrival marked a time of peace, an era of prosperity for the land. Of course, we all have a place in those times – those of us that worked and laboured for the community, all while carrying people, and moving them from one part of the land to the next.

Angus said he remembers a great feast at the estate one winter. There was roasted meat, sweet honey cakes, and warm beer for the workers, even a whole basket of carrots for us. Angus, with a chuckle and a wink, said “Lord Gordon made a very fine impression on our new King!” I’m certain he did.

We all felt a new kind of confidence, a calm that had settled upon the kingdom. The old battles and invasions seemed to fade into memory. Horses like me were able to roam the meadows, enjoying a moment of reprieve from pulling heavy loads and transporting precious goods across rough lands.

Life in 0983 was a blend of challenges and rewards, a time of both hardship and grace. Across the lands, there was more to be learned, more stories waiting to be uncovered!

Down in the South, near the village of Dorchester, we had heard stories of horses playing a critical role in the flourishing Anglo-Saxon Kingdom. This was a time when horses were vital for messengers, riding over vast distances, transmitting urgent news from one corner of the Kingdom to the other.

And across the seas, on those shores of France, our cousins were pulling chariots through the fields. And while the Anglo-Saxons favoured sleek and powerful steeds, our French cousins tended to prize the workhorse, with broad chests and thick manes. They’d carry the heaviest loads.

In Constantinople, an important center of trade, it was horses, once again, that brought valuable spices and goods from faraway lands to be traded in that thriving marketplace. Horses played an even greater role, a more majestic role you see.

They carried dignitaries, even the Emperor himself, on his glorious voyages!

The world of horses, even in those old times, was a fascinating tapestry, each breed with its own unique role and story. It was like one big, interconnected world.

It's funny how, as years pass by, even a lifetime isn’t long enough to capture everything that’s happening in our equine world! In those years, it seems that history went by like the swift current of a river. As I write, my hooves clickety-clack on the hard floorboards, but it seems like yesterday that I was running wild through the Scottish meadows, that we were racing after those red fox families or wrestling playfully in the shade of a great oak.

Even back in 0983, you could sense the energy in the air – the feeling that things were about to change, even for us horses. New roads would soon be built, linking towns and cities across the land. Those iron beasts – carriages – were starting to replace the wooden carts we had been pulling. We’d already heard stories about metal ships crossing oceans. I could only imagine what future years might bring!

Now, dear friends, as I always like to say, history is a neverending story. What's even more exciting, is we're right in the middle of it, writing our own pages every single day. So let us gallop forward with courage and curiosity, enjoying our present moments while taking lessons from the past!

Until next time,

Emma