cc. 4, 5, the king could commandeer from his subjects as many horses

as he might need for his own service. By the nobles and barons this was deemed a harsh measure, and frequently they rebelled against it. Some of the more spirited even refused to acknowledge its validity, with the result that a number were slain whilst attempting to retain their horses by force; others were imprisoned; and a few were put to death as rebels. Indeed at this period the theft of a horse ranked second only to murder, and was punished as severely.

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A horse upon whose history several more or less romantic stories and poems have been based was the bay charger owned by King Edward I. that Sir Eustace de Hecche rode in the battle of Falkirk in 1298. It had a white stocking on its near hind leg, and according to one story its sire and grandsire had each a white stocking almost exactly similar.

Some say that this charger—it had several names, apparently—was killed in the battle, for it is known beyond dispute that many of the chargers owned by knights, barons, valets and esquires were slain in that great conflict.

Other reports, however, have it that Sir Eustace's mount came through the fight without a scratch. Sir Eustace was singularly attached to this particular horse and is said to have refused offers of large sums if he would sell it. He is also accredited with the remark that in courage and intelligence his bay charger eclipsed all other war horses he had ever owned.

Much of interest to do with horses has been narrated by a distinguished writer who flourished towards the end of the thirteenth and in the beginning of the fourteenth centuries—namely, Marco Polo. His remarks about the superstitions that were prevalent in his time are exceptionally instructive.

Writing of the city of Chandu which was founded by Kublai and that gave the name to the river known now as Shangtu, Polo tells us to remember that the Kaan owned an immense stud of white horses and mares, some 10,000 in all, “and not one with a speck or blemish visible.” The milk of these mares was reserved for the Kaan and his family, “and they drank a great deal of it,” the rest being given to some of the more distant relatives of the tribe.

Upon occasions, however, a tribe named Horiad was allowed to drink of the milk of the mares, “the privilege being granted them,” as Polo says, “by Chinghas Kaan on account of a certain victory they long ago helped him to win.”

Elsewhere Polo describes what may be termed the etiquette it was essential the traveller should observe who chanced to come upon the herd of white mares when they were travelling.

“Be he the greatest lord in the land,” he tells us, “he must not presume to pass until the mares have gone by, but must either tarry where he is, or go half-a-day's journey round, if need so be, so as not to come nigh them, for they are to be treated with the greatest respect.”

Non-observance of this unwritten law brought grief in its train, the punishments inflicted being as varied as they were horrible.

Furthermore, every year, on the 28th of August, “the lord set out from the park,” upon which occasion none of the mares' milk was drunk. Instead it was collected in large-mouthed vessels kept expressly for the purpose and the occasion, and after that it was “sprinkled over a vast stretch of ground and in many different directions.”

This was done “on the injunction of the Idolaters and Idol-priests,” who steadfastly maintained that if the milk were thus sprinkled once a year “the Earth and the Air and the Gods shall have their share of it, and the Spirits likewise that inhabit the Air and the Earth.... And thus those beings will protect and bless the Kaan and his children, and his wives, and his folk, and his gear, and his cattle, and his horses, and his corn, and all that is his; and after this done the Emperor is off and away.”

It is strange, also significant, that in almost every age allusion has been made to the respect habitually paid to white horses, especially pure white horses. From Homer we know that in his period, or towards the latter part of the eighth century B.C., the Thracians, the Illyrians and the people of Upper Europe spoke of white horses as though they almost worshipped them as gods.

In those early times it was deemed criminal intentionally to wound a white horse, while to kill one even by accident was thought to be but little less blameworthy—save, of course, upon occasions when a white horse was to be sacrificed to please the gods or to appease their anger.

Some centuries later Herodotus virtually repeats what Homer has already told us, and gives us to understand in addition that by that time parts of Russia teemed with white horses, many of them of great value.

Whether towards the end of the third and the beginning of the second centuries B.C. the Russians treated even white horses with ordinary humanity would appear doubtful, though we know that Russians entertained superstitious and grotesque beliefs concerning horses that were either white or cream-coloured.

Finally, some seven centuries later, Marco Polo comes with his remarkable narratives of the Tartars' herds of white horses and their strange beliefs concerning them. From other sources particulars may be obtained of the barbarous practices these Tartars had recourse to upon the occasions of their sacrificial ceremonies, particulars of too revolting a nature to be given here.

And now again we find allusion to the Turf. Apparently Edward II. disliked horse racing—such horse-racing as there was in his reign—and all that appertained to it, for upon the feast of St George in the year 1309 we find him interdicting “a tournament which was to be held on Newmarket Heath”; an act that made him unpopular for the moment, though when some years later he deliberately put a stop to preparations in progress in connection with a similar tournament nobody seemed much to mind.

That the people of England were none the less interested in horses at about this time we may infer from the knowledge we have that John Gyfford and William Twety had already issued their books upon horses and hunting, books to be seen to this day among the manuscripts in the Cottonian Collection, and that were, if one may express it so, widely read when first written.

Strictly dissimilar were the views of Edward III. from those of his predecessors where the subject of horses and the various forms of sport in which the horse plays a prominent part were concerned. The steps taken by Edward II. deliberately to foster general dislike of certain branches of sport had not achieved the desired effect save amongst his small circle of sycophants, and one of Edward III.'s first acts upon succeeding him was to gather together a stud of the swiftest running horses procurable.

This act it was that led the popular King of Navarre to select “two swift-running horses of great beauty” from his stable and send them as a present to Edward III.; a compliment which pleased Edward greatly and that he quickly acknowledged.

In this reign, also in the reign of the succeeding monarch, Richard II., Acts were passed which directly tended to encourage the breeding and rearing of good horses. Indeed the sums spent by Edward III. in connection with this must have been prodigious, for it is on record that upon one occasion he purchased from the Count of Hainault alone horses to the value of some 25,000 florins.

Many of the horses that he bought, however, came direct from the Low Countries. Among the royal manors where he established large studs, especially studs of war horses, were Woodstock, Waltham, Odiham, and of course Windsor, a proportion of the expense of inaugurating and supporting these stud farms being defrayed by the sheriffs, according to royal command.

Yet, in spite of all this, the supply of horses obtainable was not equal to the demand when the great war with France broke out. At the battle of Crecy, in 1346, only a proportion of the army of Edward III. and the Black Prince had horses, though we know that almost on the eve of the campaign considerable sums were spent upon the purchase of horses from the King of Gascony and from several large owners.

This seems stranger still when we remember that the English army at Crecy was limited to some 36,000 men only, whereas King Philip's forces numbered over 130,000.

Crecy, indeed, is one of the few historical battles in which the army that was the best mounted did not win the day; but then all historians admit that the bowmen the English brought into the field upon that occasion were probably among the best disciplined and the most expert that had ever before been seen in action.

On the other hand the horses of the opposing forces were not of the best. Many had hardly been trained at all to arms, and many more had been commandeered and hurried into the field almost at the eleventh hour. Some historians hold that Philip's army would have fared better had there been fewer men-at-arms in the fighting line, and it is possible that upon this single occasion if the army had had fewer horses it might have achieved success.