Hello everyone, and welcome back to my EquiWorld blog! I’m Emma, a grey draught mare with a snow-white mane and tail, hailing from the rolling hills of Hayfield near Aberdeen, Scotland. It's been a while since I've updated you on all the equine happenings in the world, so let's dive right into the year 1190!
1190! It feels like a lifetime ago now. This was a year of great change, exciting news, and – sadly – some difficult situations for horses like me. You see, I've lived a full life, witnessed much of the world and its challenges. And while I might not be able to read, I can certainly tell you stories!
First things first, let's talk about me, Emma. You see, I wasn't just any ordinary farm horse. I was a proud draught horse, a descendant of those sturdy creatures who helped build empires and cities. And in 1190, a king named Richard I, known as "Richard the Lionheart", was on a grand adventure to the Holy Land! I always enjoyed hearing the village elders speak of him; they said he was a man who loved horses dearly and fought fiercely for what he believed in. He wanted to liberate the Holy Land from Muslim control.
Now, I might be a draught horse, but that doesn't mean I didn't yearn for adventure too! But life on the Hayfield farm was idyllic in many ways. I'd wake to the crowing of roosters and the chirping of birds. Every day I'd join the other horses in grazing the rolling green hills, the cool breeze tousling my mane. The scent of wild thyme and wildflowers was like a magical perfume. It's a scent that's forever etched in my memory, one I haven't forgotten even after travelling so much.
In those days, a good strong horse like me would be the pride and joy of any farmer. My owner, a kindly man called Alistair, relied on me to pull the heavy plough through the fields. It wasn't always easy work, but Alistair and I had a connection; we understood each other's needs. His gentle hand and soft voice reassured me, and we'd finish every task together.
Now, Alistair had been quite interested in King Richard's exploits. He'd sit by the fire after a hard day's work and talk about how Richard's troops needed horses like us, strong and resilient. Sometimes he’d whisper, "If only we had horses like Emma for the Crusade, what a force they’d make!" It was exciting to hear about such feats, although at that point, it seemed far removed from my daily routine.
But then one day, a news travelled through Hayfield on the wind. The rumour had it that King Richard was starting his campaign and needed horses! Every farmer who owned strong draught horses like me was summoned to the nearby port city of Aberdeen. It was as if the earth had spoken to all the horses, beckoning us towards adventure and the unknown!
My heart fluttered, and my ears perked up at the news. My friends, the other farm horses, seemed excited, too. I wasn't quite sure why, but even as I pulled the heavy plough, I felt an electric anticipation humming beneath my hooves. Alistair seemed sad, his eyes clouding over, but I could sense that a piece of him was secretly pleased. We weren't ordinary farm horses anymore. We were a force to be reckoned with!
As we arrived in Aberdeen, I felt the buzz of a thousand hooves underfoot. Every field was full of horses, their colours as vibrant as a blooming meadow – from black as night to the shimmering chestnut brown, dappled with white. And everywhere I looked, there were humans: merchants, farmers, blacksmiths, and men in fine clothes, some wearing swords and armour. It felt as if all of Scotland had converged on this bustling city!
It was truly exhilarating to be a part of such a grand assembly. We grazed and whinnied, sharing stories and anticipation for the adventure ahead. There was a tangible excitement in the air. Then one day, an announcement shook the very ground beneath our hooves.
The king’s royal heralds appeared, riding on beautifully adorned steeds, their voices ringing out with pronouncements of honor, duty, and sacrifice. They told us we were needed for the Holy Land campaign. Many were picked to serve, and Alistair – much to my joy and his surprise – chose to bring me with him. His heart seemed full of pride.
After weeks of training and rigorous preparations, it was finally time. We gathered at the docks, where gigantic ships loomed over us. My eyes widened at the sheer size and power of those vessels, like monstrous creatures from the sea. The sea air, crisp and briny, made me feel as if my spirit had also spread its wings, soaring beyond my Hayfield meadow.
The farewells were choked with emotion. Many horses sobbed and whinnied, but I just stood silently, my head high, gazing at the world that stretched out before me. The waves crashing against the ships seemed to whisper of the unknown.
And so we set sail, horses and men crammed onto the ships, our hooves tapping a steady rhythm on the wooden floor. It was a long and tumultuous journey across the Mediterranean. I, with my love for grass and rolling hills, did miss the open meadows, the crisp air of Hayfield, and the gentle, familiar rhythm of the plough. But with each day that passed, I felt the power of this adventure pulling me deeper and deeper. It was a new beginning, a story for the ages!
More to follow in my next blog post - and who knows, maybe I’ll have some exciting stories from the Holy Land to tell. Keep galloping with me, my dear EquiWorld friends.
