A Sunny Day in Hayfield, 1333
The sun was painting the Scottish highlands with a golden glow as I, Emma, stretched my powerful frame in the cool morning air. My white mane and tail, so crisp and clean this early in the day, swayed gently with the morning breeze. The scent of wildflowers mixed with the fresh Highland air, a sweet symphony I never tired of. I’m a grey draught horse, a noble breed known for strength and endurance, and at twenty years old, I’m still strong enough to pull a cart loaded with barley across the toughest terrain.
My day, as usual, would start with pulling the family's cart to the village of Hayfield. This was the day when the village market would be buzzing with people trading for necessities, the sweet aroma of fresh bread filling the air. The market was a wonderful place, full of hustle and bustle. People often stopped to admire my magnificent frame and gleaming white coat, and sometimes I even received a generous pat on the neck from a friendly child.
This day, though, was extra special. We were all going to the yearly horse fair. It’s a joyous time for all the horses in the surrounding villages. For us, it's a chance to mingle with others of our kind, enjoy some friendly competition, and sometimes, for those fortunate, it's even a chance to find a new home and family.
The fair itself was an event like no other, and my excitement for it built with every clop of my hooves as we headed out towards the heart of the Highland countryside. Today, we had to cover a good distance.
I knew from years of past experience that there would be many fellow steeds there: from sturdy Shire horses and elegant warmbloods to lively ponies and sprightly Highland horses, the place would be alive with movement, energy, and a joyous sense of shared purpose.
I looked towards my sturdy farm cart filled with our wares: a few extra eggs for the fair’s vendors, a couple of homemade blankets woven by the local women, and the basket full of newly made honey that we’d be selling in hopes of trading for a few things I needed. My human, Maggie, was bustling with anticipation as she gathered a few provisions for the day, the sunshine reflecting off her fiery hair. We shared a bond, she and I, one born of understanding and mutual respect, a silent language passed back and forth with each tilt of her head, and each responding nuzzle I’d give her hand when she reached to feed me.
She hummed a tune that day as we headed for the horse fair. And I thought to myself, ‘We are truly blessed, we draught horses. We have purpose in this world. We provide strength and support, we share the burden of human life, and we find joy in the work that brings meaning to our existence.”
I took a deep breath, enjoying the freedom of the road, and savoured the feeling of wind in my mane and the rhythm of my powerful legs carrying us along.
Horse Culture in the Year 1333
But before I go on to tell you all about the horse fair, it’s important to understand where our world, the world of horses, stands in the year 1333. Let’s call this the early Middle Ages, or maybe the beginning of the High Middle Ages for some. Times of both strife and advancement. The world of humans is going through dramatic change. They talk about ‘The Black Death’ on the horizon, but we don’t fully understand what it will mean for us. There are fears about war too, for they speak of skirmishes over there, in France.
But all those human worries never seem to touch our own. For us, it's a time of growth and development for our breed, both in terms of numbers and uses.
The Draught Horse's Role
We draught horses, you know, we're the unsung heroes of our era!
Yes, it’s true that many noble and brave steeds serve humans in other ways, but it's the draught horses that provide the foundation, the strong and steady force that allows human life to thrive in this era. From working in fields to carrying loads for merchants, we're the backbone of most local economies and daily life. People still sometimes talk of us as the "bread winners” of the human world, as without us they wouldn’t be able to harvest crops, move goods to markets, or simply travel efficiently over long distances.
Our role has grown alongside the changing times. We’re much more than just beasts of burden now. While it’s true that many of us still till the land and pull the cart to bring goods to markets, there are newer roles as well. There are many horses helping with the construction of tall stone buildings and churches. We are crucial to the growth of settlements, for humans can only carry so much by foot. And there's a growing demand for us on roads that stretch further across the lands, carrying mail, food, and soldiers, and even making sure supplies reach the growing cities like London.
Our lives may seem simple compared to other species. We are creatures of routine, work, and a deep sense of duty. Yet, the strong connection with the land and the humans who depend on us brings purpose, pride, and a kind of deep inner strength.
It is with a joyful heart that I stride through life. My white mane and tail always wind in the breeze as we pull our loads, but it’s with that sense of shared purpose, my inner quiet contentment, and my understanding that my contribution makes a real difference that allows me to carry on my duties with pride.
The Journey to the Horse Fair
After an hour or so on the road, I stopped briefly at the edge of a vast forest where Maggie tied my reins to a thick branch, allowing me a little break before the final push to the fair. The world seemed silent, save for the rustling leaves above my head, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the sweet scent of pine needles and damp earth.
Soon enough, Maggie had my lead rein in her hands, and we were off again, the sound of our hooves hitting the hard ground breaking the peaceful silence.
The countryside unfolded around me, each landscape passing by in a kaleidoscope of green hills, vibrant meadows dotted with wildflowers, and shimmering streams meandering their way through it all. There’s nothing I love more than travelling the open road with Maggie. She tells me stories of people and places as we journey, sharing knowledge of the world beyond my limited experience in this quiet corner of the Scottish countryside.
As the sun moved closer to the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the market became visible on the far edge of a nearby field. I recognized the bright colors of vendor stalls and the lively shouts of humans amidst the rumbling of horse carts and excited neighing of our brethren.
The Great Horse Fair at Forres
This fair at Forres, unlike many others, is known throughout this corner of Scotland as a gathering of not only practical workhorses like myself, but a place where people come to witness skill, beauty, and even athletic prowess in horses. Many folks even make a day of it.
Once Maggie pulled up my cart amongst the other horses, she was quick to release my reigns and my friends immediately surged around, wanting to say hello with a hearty nuzzle and neigh of recognition. It was truly like meeting up with my own family and extended clan after too long apart.
“Well, you do look splendid, Emma”, Maggie chuckled at me, as she went to attend the marketplace, leaving me to spend some time with my equine peers.
After catching up with some old friends and getting the latest gossip about births and work, my hooves carried me towards the heart of the festivities: the racing arena. This fair was famed for the spirited races, where horses, small and large, put their speed to the test in a series of thrilling sprints.
My grey fur coat seemed to stand taller with pride when the announcement echoed across the field, heralding the “Draught Horse Endurance Challenge”. As soon as those words reached my ears, I knew that there was no horse that would better match strength with stamina than me. I couldn’t help but neigh in excitement, as I turned my attention towards the crowd, which seemed to thrum with anticipation.
And then there we were, lined up and ready, my eight fellow draught horses, our reins in the hands of our trainers and handlers, with humans seated astride on our broad backs, waiting for the signal to begin the race. We stood quietly, muscles tensed, senses heightened, ready to explode with power and effort. This was where the strength of my kind was most keenly seen, not merely by humans but by our brethren too. Each one of us was the epitome of power and beauty in this ancient ritual of strength, speed, and determination.
At that moment, my world narrowed to my human Maggie, the man on my back, the cheering crowd, the sense of power coursing through my powerful body, and the red flag in the distance. The air grew electric, charged with the energy of a dozen horses at the edge of release.
The sound of the horn pierced through the silence, a clarion call for us to begin. My trainer loosened his grip on my reins, allowing me to burst forth, an explosion of controlled power as my legs pounded the earth in unison, propelled by the need to move forward with every fibre of my being.
My eyes fixed on the man sitting on my back, a skilled horseman of years. I trusted him completely, knowing his gentle pressure and precise adjustments were working in perfect harmony with my every movement, his command seamlessly blending with my own inner will.
As the other horses stretched their legs, we all surged forward. For the next several hundred metres, it was a blur of dirt, sun, and hooves hitting the ground. Every breath I took was filled with purpose, each heartbeat echoed with my ambition.
The course stretched ahead, lined with flags, hurdles to jump over, and even a stretch where we had to navigate a small, winding maze of barrels. We were challenged in many ways, requiring more than sheer strength and speed. I pushed my limits, but stayed strong, remembering that in these tests, the spirit was the truest measure of success.
With each hurdle cleared and every task completed, the cheering grew louder, encouraging us forward. The crowd, even in the distance, had an almost palpable energy. The noise felt like it pulsed through me, urging me to give my all, every hoofstep pushing me to the next goal.
In the final moments, it came down to me and my toughest competitor. The crowd held its breath as we neared the finish line, my black and white friend barely a length behind. This time, I felt that burst of pure joy, that indescribable sensation when all things were focused to one singular moment, that powerful exertion of strength and will as we flew across the final yards.
I couldn’t feel any fatigue, only that deep, quiet pride that filled my whole being after giving my all. It wasn't just about speed. This test was for me and my kind, a chance to demonstrate what we were made of - not only our bodies, but our souls.
In this moment, in this celebration, we draught horses stood triumphant, demonstrating not only power but endurance, determination and sheer joy.
My heart soared when the crowd roared. It felt as if they all knew, the power we possess, the essence of our spirit, the unique bond we share with humans, and all the ways we have shaped history and our place within it.
I let out a happy neigh as my rider returned to me, patting me with pride, knowing I had delivered his best.
The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur of friendly competition and chatter with other horses. As Maggie packed my supplies, I thought about my experiences. Today was special for its excitement, the demonstration of skill and athleticism. But in this era of growing human power and expanding worlds, my true joy lay in my every day life - the constant toil that, through us, kept humans fed, moved, and empowered to build even greater civilizations.
Even without races, I lived my days in constant striving, in dedication, in that beautiful dance of giving my all. I thought again about the coming “Black Death”. What it would mean for us was something no horse could truly understand, yet even in our lack of knowledge, there was that inherent strength that guided us.
I gazed up at the darkening sky as Maggie helped me climb into the cart. The world was moving in ways none of us fully understood, yet through our enduring bond with humans, through the connection between muscle and heart, and with a deep appreciation for the powerful role we play in the lives of others, my hope is that we, the draught horses of Hayfield and everywhere, can play a continuing, lasting, and positive role in all the chapters of history that yet lay ahead.
