Post 1494: My Dear Diary
My hooves click-clack on the cobbles, the morning sun painting a bright ribbon across the misty air of Hayfield. The heather-scented breeze whispers tales of adventure and a day filled with the sturdy rhythms of farm life. Another glorious morning in 1494, my dearest EquiWorld readers!
For those who haven't had the pleasure of meeting me, I am Emma. A grey mare, standing strong and tall, my coat as smooth as silk and my white mane and tail flowing like silver in the wind. I reside in the rolling hills of Hayfield, nestled near Aberdeen, where the sweet aroma of freshly turned earth always fills the air.
Oh, to be a horse in this time! The world is my canvas, painted with a vibrant palette of golden fields, wild moorlands, and the cerulean tapestry of the Scottish sky.
This year, as the snow melts and the first blooms of spring adorn the land, there's a buzzing excitement in the air. You see, the great king of this land, King James IV, has summoned many a horse for his grand foray into France!
You might wonder what this "France" place is, my dears. It's a land across the vast ocean, they say. This land is caught in a conflict, a "war" they call it, with a fiery King Louis. Now, our valiant King James wishes to show his support for the French King, offering a valiant legion of Scottish warriors, and a grand army of horses to bear them.
My heart beats a little faster with anticipation. For the noble, proud horses of Scotland, war brings both challenge and honour. To be chosen to serve your king, to gallop across foreign fields, to be a part of such grand battles, is a privilege and a responsibility not easily surpassed.
But don't let the grandeur of war deceive you, my dears. Our lives, as humble steeds, remain deeply intertwined with the pulse of the land. Each day, I wake up to the melodic chirp of the lark, the comforting rhythm of my own steady breath, and the gentle touch of a familiar hand on my flank.
These moments, etched in the stillness of early mornings, are a quiet reminder that even in a year marked by political upheavals and tales of distant battles, life goes on in its natural, cyclical rhythm. The sheep need herding, the fields need tilling, the timber must be transported from the forests to the villages. It's this intricate dance between the grand events of the world and the everyday simplicity of life that defines my world.
And speaking of the daily routine, my dear readers, I've been sharing the burden of hauling and carting with my stablemate, the chestnut stallion, Thomas. He's a fellow of sturdy build, with an endearing stubbornness that often leaves a chuckle escaping my nostrils.
Recently, we’ve been transporting hay from the distant fields. The sun has begun to burn fierce, and even the strongest horses need a well-deserved rest. We munch on oats under the shade of the towering oak trees, while the old stable-hand, a kind soul named MacAllister, hums his ancient Gaelic melodies. He tells us tales of old, tales of daring horses and mythical creatures, stories that shimmer under the moonlit sky.
But life isn’t always easy. Last week, the weather took a turn. A thick, grey curtain descended over Hayfield, unleashing icy winds and a rain that seemed to swallow the land whole.
My work, hauling supplies in these treacherous conditions, proved to be quite challenging, to say the least. My coat bristled with chill, and my hooves struggled to find traction on the muddy path. Even Thomas, with his impressive strength, faltered occasionally, the wind threatening to snatch his mane from its moorings.
But as always, with a deep breath and a good scratch behind the ears from MacAllister, we found the strength to keep going. The hardship brought us closer, a sense of kinship forged in the shared burden. After all, what's a grey mare without her trusted companions?
Despite the challenges of the weather, our work has been a rewarding experience. The feeling of hauling a well-laden cart across the rolling hills, the satisfaction of helping fellow farmers and witnessing the fruitful bounty of the land - these experiences enrich my days in a way that surpasses mere pleasure.
There are times, my dear EquiWorld readers, when I sit back and wonder what this world holds for a horse like me. Will I gallop into the battlefield, hooves pounding in the fury of war? Will I continue my simple life, my existence forever tied to the land and its people?
Whatever fate holds, one thing remains constant: my unwavering love for this life, a life dedicated to serving others, a life filled with the beauty of the natural world. The world of horses, in all its splendor and simplicity, continues to amaze me.
This is my story, a tale spun in the heart of 1494, a year of great change, of political tumult, of life and death, of battles and bountiful harvests. As the moon climbs high over Hayfield, casting its soft light on the sleeping fields, I pen these words, grateful for each moment, each heartbeat, each whisper of the wind, for they are all a part of my extraordinary life.
And as always, I welcome your thoughts and stories from your own corner of EquiWorld! Share your adventures with us, and together we'll journey through the magnificent history of horses, one hoof-print at a time.
Yours with unwavering hooves, Emma.
