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.”