Welcome, fellow equines!
I’m Emma, a 20-year-old grey draught horse with a white mane and tail. I call the picturesque Hayfield near Aberdeen, Scotland, home, and my days are filled with the rhythm of hooves on cobblestone and the scent of fresh heather. This month, as I nibble on sweet hay, I can't help but reflect on 1321, a year etched in my memory - a year of change and resilience.
Spring, 1321:
The first hint of spring, with its gentle breezes and sun-dappled meadows, stirred something deep within me. It felt as if the whole of Hayfield, from the blacksmith’s anvil to the miller’s waterwheel, breathed a sigh of relief after a harsh winter. For me, it was a time for new life – the first green shoots of spring on the meadow where I grazed were mirrored in the lively bouncing of my own foals. Yes, the mares of Hayfield blessed the village with a litter of new born, a delightful tapestry of chestnut, black, and even a few rare bays, their hooves pathetically clumsy, yet eager to explore.
The year 1321 was an auspicious one for horsekind in England and Scotland, particularly in the north, where we draught horses are so vital. You see, England was still embroiled in the bitter conflict with Scotland for the crown, and what does warfare need most? You guessed it, horses! This led to a great demand for strong, sturdy steeds like me. Many from our breed were purchased to haul supplies and heavy weaponry to the battlefields. I imagine it must have been a frightening, exciting experience – the clamor of armour, the heat and dust of battle… not quite my cup of tea, thank goodness! But in times like those, it's our responsibility as horses to serve those who need us.
We also played an essential role in transporting goods – food, precious materials, and yes, sometimes, the very things needed for those unfortunate battles. For many of our kind, life involved long, arduous journeys, with miles of road under our hooves, and the occasional rumble of discontent from a poorly fed or overworked mare. But, there was something majestic about carrying such vital cargo. And sometimes, even a weary journey was rewarded by the sight of the sun setting over a picturesque castle, a memory I still cherish to this day.
Summer, 1321:
The days stretched out, filled with the rich scent of honeysuckle and warm sun on my back. As a seasoned mare, I watched as younger horses, with gleam in their eyes, frolicked in the meadows, chasing each other with the reckless abandon of youth. This is a time of unbridled joy and carefree gallops, but I had to remind myself to not let the memory of my youthful foolishness cloud my wise counsel, particularly when it came to training young foals. Patience, as they say, is a virtue!
Summer also meant work, which I carried out with a proud stride, pulling heavy wagons brimming with hay or wheat, all vital to sustain life. You see, during the summer months, our lives intertwined closely with those of our human counterparts. They toiled alongside us, with sweat on their brows and muscles taut from hard work, feeding us, caring for us. We understood the need for that collaborative effort, a mutual respect that permeated through the long days. It was an honour to work in unison with such strong, skilled human companions.
This season saw the construction of many new fortifications and castles throughout Scotland and England, especially along the border. This, of course, called for a considerable amount of transport, something we horses were particularly skilled at, which meant more jobs for us! I still recall those journeys – a never-ending line of carts laden with stones, timber, and heavy siege equipment, stretching as far as the eye could see.
Autumn, 1321:
With autumn came a chill in the air and the rustle of fall leaves as they cascaded to the ground. I could sense the change in the light – the days were shorter, the evenings growing longer and chillier. It was time to seek warmth and shelter.
But as we worked, preparing for the coming winter, I couldn't help but be concerned. A heavy mood fell upon us, even among the boisterous foals. You see, rumours of famine whispered on the wind – crops, especially wheat and barley, had failed this year. I knew the stories, whispered by the elder mares - stories of hunger, of emaciated stallions, of families facing a long, arduous winter. It felt as if we had entered a period of uncertain shadows, where even the sturdy resilience of a draught horse couldn't banish the creeping worry.
The winter of 1321 was unusually harsh, the chill permeating our bones. Food grew scarce, and the usually boisterous spirits of even the youngest foals became dampened. For me, it was a reminder of the vulnerability of even the strongest of creatures. As days went on, we worked even harder – a relentless cycle of carrying firewood, hauling coal, transporting essential goods for the village, our weary bodies working alongside human companions who were also facing challenges. But this, I reminded myself, was part of our nature. We, the horses, were designed for hard work, endurance, and resilience, qualities needed now more than ever.
In these hard times, we shared a bond of kinship with the villagers. The shared struggles we faced – the scarcity of food, the frigid cold - bound us in an unspoken language. I knew their faces were drawn with worry, their lips pinched together in quiet reflection. I felt it too, but through it all, we held on, working together, enduring as a community, human and horse, drawing strength from our unity.
Spring, 1322:
When spring finally arrived, the soft warmth felt as welcoming as a warm blanket. I remember the collective sigh of relief that emanated from all of us – villagers, horses, and all the creatures that inhabited Hayfield. I'd witnessed the hardships of 1321 firsthand – the famine, the uncertainties, and the resilience we all had shown. But the sun had broken through, the ice had melted, and new life sprang up, a hopeful whisper carried on the breeze.
1321 had left a mark, etched deep within us. But even in times of trouble, the spirit of a horse - its courage, its strength, and its unwavering dedication - endured. That, my friends, is something worth celebrating.
Until next time, stay strong, my fellow equines!
Yours, Emma
