From the stables of Emma, a grey draught mare in Hayfield, near Aberdeen, Scotland.
Greetings, fellow equines! It’s Emma here, penning my thoughts (or rather, hoof-tapping my hooves) about life as a horse in the year 1178. Now, 1178 wasn't a year bursting with revolutions in the equestrian world, mind you. We weren’t quite ready for stirrups yet (those came later), and the only horse-drawn vehicles around were the simple, solid carts for carrying goods and the odd fancy carriage for a lord or lady. But don’t think for a moment that this meant we were leading dull lives. Let me tell you, 1178 was a bustling time for us!
The Sound of the Anvil and the Smell of Fresh Bread
Every morning, I'd wake up with the familiar clanging of the blacksmith’s hammer. It echoed through Hayfield, the music to my ears, and meant it was time to start our daily routines. We horses were an essential part of this little community, providing the muscle to carry everything from building materials to market produce. There was always work to be done, and for the most part, the men who owned us treated us well. We were their partners in toil, and we knew it.
Our days were spent pulling carts full of oats, wheat, and barley, carrying heavy loads to the local mill, or hauling timber from the woods to be turned into homes. Occasionally, we’d be called upon for something more leisurely - hauling a cart laden with freshly baked bread to the market in nearby Aberdeen, or pulling a cart for the lord’s carriage, driven by his lady in a silk dress and fine hat. The city of Aberdeen always had a vibrant, heady aroma of freshly baked goods and smoked fish. It was a far cry from the wild hills we were raised on, but the bustle of city life had its charms, and the sight of other horses at the market was a comforting sight.
Adventures and Unexpected Challenges
One morning, the sun was still peeking over the Scottish hills when a band of travelers, with long coats and horses laden with bags and tools, came to Hayfield. We, the draught horses, had the distinct honour of pulling their heavy, clanking wagons through the difficult, rocky trails leading further North, up into the rugged, mountainous heartland of Scotland. We were tasked with carrying provisions for the new fortress being constructed by the king himself! I recall being nervous at the start, for the path was rugged and the journey long. But there were moments of wonder too. I remember how my hooves echoed on the silent, winding roads, the cold air filled with the songs of the birds and the rustle of leaves in the crisp breeze. And though there were challenges, the journey was invigorating. It was a chance to see the vast, sweeping lands beyond the hills we were familiar with.
News From Beyond the Highlands
Back at Hayfield, the talk amongst the stable lads was about the great king, Henry II, across the border in England. The rumours were swirling – he was building new castles and making plans for his son, who was a young king in his own right, to be the king of Scotland. I couldn’t grasp the complexities of these battles and intrigues, but the chatter of the men let me know that our lives, although simple and straightforward, were intertwined with these bigger events. We were the backbone of life, but even our humble work carried within it the whispers of the greater world.
A Bond of Trust
We were not simply animals, tools, or burdens. There was a trust between us and the men of Hayfield. It was not spoken of often, but it was a quiet understanding, like a secret code whispered by the wind. They knew that when we felt a strong pull at our harness, we didn’t buck or refuse to budge, but would move forward with determined power, knowing that our effort meant something. They gave us food and water, sheltered us from harsh weather, and mended any scratches or cuts with gentle hands. We horses were part of their families, in a way, even if we couldn't speak to them.
The Joy of the Stable
Evenings were a balm to our hard days. Back at the stable, we’d stand together, our warm bodies close to one another, while the stable boys would clean our hooves, stroke our coats, and feed us steaming bowls of oats. I loved to watch the dancing firelight flicker on their faces and hear them softly hum folk songs. It was in these moments that I realised that even in the busiest of years, in the face of toil and challenge, a quiet, simple joy was a constant companion.
A World In Motion
Life in 1178 was busy, hard work for a horse like me. But, looking back now, with a calmness that only years can bring, I can see that we were truly part of something bigger – the foundation of society, carrying the hopes and burdens of those we served. And for me, every hoof-step, every load pulled, was an adventure, an opportunity to witness the wonder and complexity of the world unfolding around us.
Join me again, dear reader, next time for a glimpse into the equine world in another year. Until then, keep your hooves moving, your hearts open, and always remember – every day is a journey.
