By Emma, Hayfield, Scotland
Greetings fellow equines, and welcome back to my blog, where I, Emma, a grey mare of twenty summers, share my thoughts on life as a horse in the year 1383. The world may feel rather different from your comfortable stables, but I promise you, we’re all part of a grand, thrilling adventure!
As the spring thaws began to unfurl in the foothills of the Scottish Highlands, a new chapter of my life began. I was finally deemed "old enough" by my human family to be put to proper work. The year 1383 started off rather bleak for most horses in this part of the world. A biting winter, with seemingly endless blizzards and snow drifts, meant few horses were spared the burden of carting food and firewood across frosted fields. It’s not a life for the faint of heart, but it was in these hard times I learned to be strong, resilient, and perhaps, even a little bit proud.
I'd just turned five years old – still quite young, but already standing a hefty fifteen hands tall – when the head of the family, a kind man called Gregor, placed a sturdy wooden harness on my broad back. The rough burlap of the collar sat snug against my strong shoulders, and I, quite frankly, relished the sensation of a purpose finally bestowed upon me. I felt…significant! My grey coat glistened beneath the rays of a tentative spring sun, my white mane and tail flowing like silken rivers as Gregor secured the heavy harness, his eyes gleaming with pride and hope. That morning, I learned a name that was to be etched into the history of horses throughout the land: 'Draught'. My kind – the strong, muscular horses, born to carry, pull and toil – were known as 'draught' horses.
My job was simple, yet crucial: hauling a large wagon across the fields to transport barley from one field to the threshing floor. It was gruelling work, especially in the heat of summer. The heavy, rattling wheels would grind against the dirt tracks, my feet sinking into the soft earth as I pulled with all my strength. Yet, the rhythm of it, the sun warming my back, the sense of contributing to my human family’s well-being – it brought me immense satisfaction.
And oh, the thrill of being on the open road! Every time Gregor and I set off on one of our journeys, my heart would swell with a joyful excitement. We would trundle down dusty roads, pass quaint villages, their thatched roofs glowing golden under the midday sun, and often encounter other travellers with horses like me – sturdy warhorses pulling covered wagons laden with goods, farmers guiding their plough horses through fields, and even majestic palfreys carrying noble ladies on their backs. These encounters filled me with a deep sense of camaraderie. We were all bound by a shared purpose, a commitment to this world, even if our lives were different.
On those days, as we ambled through the world, I found myself pondering on life in the past and its influence on horses like us. While 1383 was hardly the golden age of equestrian luxury, I knew that horses had a long and illustrious history, our legacy stretching back centuries. My elders, the wise old mares in our village, shared stories about knights riding their proud steeds to distant lands, of fearless warhorses charging onto battlefields, of valiant stallions bearing their masters to victory. Those tales fueled my dreams and aspirations, making me yearn for a life of adventure and noble purpose.
And the tales of our ancestors weren’t just confined to stories of courage and war. They whispered about the majestic Arabian horses that graced the palaces of great empires, about the tireless Mongol ponies traversing the vast steppes, and about the majestic steeds of the ancient world that drew chariots in magnificent ceremonies.
The older mares would often tell us young horses about the Silk Road, that fantastical journey where horses, alongside camels and other strong animals, traversed colossal distances, bringing valuable silks, spices and exotic goods across the world. They’d say how it connected east and west, weaving its way through towering mountains, scorching deserts, and vast grasslands, showcasing the incredible strength, endurance and resilience of horses.
It felt empowering, knowing we were part of this global web of equine life, our forefathers contributing to history's tapestry. It also filled me with awe at the magnitude of our species, a sense of pride that transcended any physical labor.
Life as a draught horse was certainly demanding, and often arduous, but 1383 was a time of growth and learning for horses like me. We learned resilience, fortitude, and above all, the profound sense of interconnectedness to the world around us. We were, after all, the vital cogs in the human world, carrying the weight of their dreams, hopes, and daily needs. We toiled side by side with them, our existence woven into the very fabric of society.
Perhaps someday, when the years of hard work have mellowed me and brought wisdom to my age, I too will tell these stories to a young grey mare with shining eyes, who might just be embarking on her own equine journey. I will share the secrets of 1383, whispering tales of hard work, dedication, and the beautiful connection that blossomed between us and humans, a bond built on trust and a shared vision for a better tomorrow. Until then, keep your heads high and your hooves moving, my fellow horses, for even in the most humble of roles, we are, in essence, truly magnificent creatures.
