The Burn o'Bannock

(Prologue)
Stobswell (Stobie) School
Dundee Scotland
23rd March 1951

‘Good Morning children’
‘Good Morning Miss Brodie’ Twenty nine voices answered.
‘Today we are going to study and learn about the most famous battle in Scottish history. Who can tell me the name of this battle?’
Hands went up.
‘Yes Molly?’
‘The Battle of Bannockburn, Miss.’
‘Good, now who can tell me why it was the most famous?’
Six hands went up, fingers snapping.
‘Yes James?’
‘We beat the English.’
‘True but can anyone else expand on this?’
The class was silent and one of the pupils was staring out of the window.
‘Jean Gordon! Are you paying attention?’
The class tittered.
‘Jean I am talking to you.’
Continuing to stare out of the window, the young girl answered, without apologising.
‘In 1314 Scotland was free above the river Forth after eighteen years of war and Stirling castle was one of the few still under English rule. King Robbie’s brother Edward Bruce had for several months, eight and a half to be exact, tried to starve the English out as he had no siege equipment.’
‘Thank you Jean but that is not the answer I am looking for.’
The young fourteen old continued,
‘Although being out numbered about five to one we still defeated the English army on the twenty fourth of June, Mid Summers Day, and our army chased them back into England as far as York before King Robbie decided to return to Scotland. Bannockburn gave us our freedom once and for all from the English claim to the Scottish Crown.’
The teacher was a bit taken aback by this answer.
‘Thank you Jean that was very good.’
‘How many men did Scotland field that day?’
Again hands went up fingers snapping.
‘Yes Moira?’
‘Sixteen thousand Miss.’
‘Correct, Scotland only had sixteen thousand troops.’
‘At first we fielded just under six thousand.’
The class went very quiet and they were all staring at Jean who had dared to criticise the teacher.
‘Jean Gordon! Open your history book to page 167 and read the first paragraph out loud to the rest of the class.’
‘I know what it says but it is wrong. Five thousand spearmen were used to make up four divisions of two mobile Schiltrons. Each Schiltron consisted of just over six hundred men. Then we had only 500 light cavalry commanded by Sir Robert Keith the hereditary Marischal of Scotland.’ The rest were made up of roughly 250 Ettrick archers using short bows.’
Anne Brodie had taught history for the past twelve years and had never experienced anything like this. She walked up to the young girl, who was still staring out of the window and bending down whispered,
‘What is wrong Jean? Why are you saying these things?’
Jean whispered back,
‘The history book is wrong.’
‘How do you know anything about this?’
The answer she received was a total shock to her senses.
‘I was there Mam… I mean… At the Battle of Bannockburn.’
Just at that the end of period bell sounded.
‘Class dismissed. Jean I want you to wait behind a moment.’
Anne followed the giggling class to the door and closed it behind them. She was determined to get to the bottom of this ludicrous nonsense. Turning from the door she ran forward in a panic as Jean collapsed to the floor.


******

The young girl regained consciousness lying on the bed in the sickbay. She looked up into the faces of Miss Brodie and the nurse.
‘What happened, Miss?’ And then burst into tears.
‘Jean, are you alright? You collapsed in class and gave me such a scare.’
‘I’m fine I don’t know what?… the last thing I remember was looking out of the window as you started to talk about the Battle of Bannockburn Miss Brodie. Am I in trouble?’
Anne smiled with relief,
‘No Jean you are not in any trouble.’
******

Anne Brodie was a very confused woman. Jean Gordon had been a very quiet inconspicuous little girl up till now. A very well mannered child, always neat and tidy but not too bright a pupil, more or less average. Anne knew that what she had heard out of the mouth of this young girl was unbelievable and had to be utter nonsense. She knew that Jean came from a poor family background and had lost her father to cancer two years previously. Her widowed mother worked two jobs to make ends meet. In an electrical shop, during the day, down the road a little bit from the school in Albert Street and at night she worked as an usherette in the Broadway Cinema in Arthurstone Terrace. Anne decided to speak to the child’s mother as soon as possible.
******
She spoke to the girl lying on the bed in the sick bay,
‘Come Jean let me take you home. I think you should take a few days off school and have your doctor check you over.’
‘But I’m fine Miss honest I am.’
‘You fainted in my classroom Jean. People just don’t faint for any reason at all. Will your mum be at home?’
‘Yes Miss this is Wednesday she only works half day.’
‘’Good then let’s go.’
Anne drove her Morris Minor out of the School down Albert Street and turned into Balmore terrace.
‘It’s here Miss. Thank you.’
‘Í want to speak to your mum Jean.’
They walked through the close and up one flight of stairs. Jean opened the door and Mary her mother came out of the front room.
‘You’re home early love.’ Then she noticed Anne standing in the doorway,
‘What’s wrong? What have you done Jean?’
‘Jean has done nothing wrong Mrs. Gordon. My name is Anne Brodie I’m Jean’s history teacher. She fainted in class and I brought her home. May I come in?’
Mary was all flustered,
‘Of course Miss Brodie, excuse my poor manners, please come in. Can I get you a cup of tea?’
‘That would be very nice thank you but I think that Jean must get to bed.’
Later sitting in the front room,
‘Mrs. Gordon can I ask you a few questions regarding Jean?’
‘Why is there something wrong? What has she done?’
‘As I said earlier Jean has done nothing wrong. What I want to know is what kind of books does she read?’
‘Books? Only her school books when I insist that’s all.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘Nothing else apart from her weekly comics the Dandy and the Beano and that new one the Girl but she doesn’t get that very often as it’s more expensive.’
‘Is she a member of the library?’
Mary laughed,
‘You’re joking. Would you mind coming through to the kitchen? I was in the middle of my ironing.’
‘Of course I will I’m sorry if I am disturbing you.’
‘You’re not. It’s just that I always do the ironing on Wednesdays.’
‘Has Jean been acting strange in any way lately?’
Anne noticed the concerned look that Mary gave her,
‘It is extremely important Mrs. Gordon I assure you.’
Mary stood gazing out of the window for a few moments before answering,
‘She writes at night.’
‘Writes?’
‘Yes but in the darkness… No light.’
******
‘What! Jean is writing at night in total darkness? What does she write about?’
‘We don’t know. Her older sister Sylvia was the first to discover it. She heard the scratching of the pen on paper.’
‘Where are the papers?’
‘In a locked drawer, in an old chest of drawers in her room.’
‘Have you seen them Mrs. Gordon?’
‘No as I said they are in a locked drawer.’
‘Surely you have the key?’
‘There is no key. There never was a key. The chest of drawers belonged to my late husband’s parents and it never had a key. I’ve searched her room upside down and her school bag and her belongings but no key.’
Anne sat there flabbergasted.
‘How long, on average, does she write for?’
‘Two hours at least sometimes longer.’
‘Does she not show signs of tiredness in the morning?’
‘None at all.’
‘Have you approached her about this?’
‘One night I opened her bedroom door very quietly and heard the writing but before I could speak she said “Please close the door mother and do not disturb me while I am writing.” My wee Jean has never called me mother since she was born.’
‘Was there any sign of light maybe a torch?’
‘Nothing Miss Brodie and the funny thing is it didn’t sound like my Jean talking to me.’
‘How long has this been going on?’
The answer was even more frightening,
‘Oh since the night of her dad’s funeral. Just over two years ago. Sam was cremated on the sixth of June nineteen forty nine.’
‘What do you think Jean writes about?’
‘At first I thought it was about her dad as she grieved very badly as did all of us but it took her much longer to get over his death… They were very close… She… She was holding his hand as he died.’
‘You said at first you thought Jean was writing about her dad. Has anything changed your mind?’
‘Well Sam was a very quiet unassuming man extremely introverted so to speak. He worked as a coppersmith in the shipyard. We were married nineteen years. I don’t think there was all that much to write about him. I loved him dearly until he was taken from me.’
Finishing off the last blouse and putting it on the pile of ironed clothes she asked, ‘Do you think there is anything wrong with my Jean?’
‘I don’t know but something happened in my class that, to be honest, scared the living daylights out of me.’
Anne told Mary Gordon what had transpired earlier.
‘My Jean said that?’
‘I’m afraid so Mrs. Gordon and coming to think about it, it didn’t sound like Jean’s voice at all and she addressed me as mam. I was very angry at the time and didn’t really pay attention but you have just triggered my memory. ’
‘But why would she say that she was at the Battle of Bannockburn? For heavens sake that was hundreds of years ago fifteen hundred and something or thereabouts.’
Anne smiled,
‘Thirteen fourteen Mrs. Gordon.’
Mary covered her open mouth with her hand, eyes staring at Anne,
‘What can I do Miss. Do you think our doctor can help?’
‘I doubt it. Leave it with me for the moment. I’ll see what I can do and please don’t say a word about this to anyone, even her older sister, it’s for Jeans sake.’
******
Two weeks later.
Anne Brodie walked out of the archives of Scottish Medieval History at Edinburgh University with a perplexed expression on her face. The child had been absolutely correct according to the two days of research she had just finished. There had been a few accounts of the actual battle of Bannockburn by quite a few chroniclers. They differed slightly of course but the overall outcome was much the same. Next she went to see a clinical psychologist whom she had met at University in her younger days.
The receptionist informed her that he had a full schedule and could she come back in a few days or make an appointment.
‘Please inform Doctor John Maxwell that Anne Brodie would like to see him please.’
‘I will tell him but as I said he is extremely busy.’
Pressing the intercom the receptionist informed John Maxwell that a lady by the name of Anne Brodie wished to see him. She didn’t finish as the door to his consulting room was thrown open and John Maxwell stood there grinning from ear to ear,
‘Anne is it really you? Come in. Joyce, cancel the rest of my appointments say I have been called out.’
‘Yes Doctor. Maxwell.’
Closing the door behind him he turned to Anne,
‘Give me a hug Brodie, you look great.’
Giving him a hug Anne stepped back,
‘You look great yourself Maxwell, married yet?’
‘Nope and you?’
‘Nope.’
They both laughed. Sitting down Anne began speaking and told her old friend all that had happened up until she left the University that morning. He sat back in his chair with a pensive look on his handsome somewhat craggy features.
‘I could put her under deep hypnosis and see what we find but you will need to get her mother’s consent in writing.’
‘Will it help her John?’
‘It should Anne. I could block out this nocturnal writing. It could be that she has a spiritual guide. She may be a medium for all we know. I’ve heard of mediums writing in the dark. They are known as pen mediums.’
******
‘I want you to relax and listen to my voice. Watch the crystal.’He was swinging the semiprecious stone from side to side before the young girl’s eyes. Soon the eyes got heavier and heavier until they closed.
‘Now I want you to listen to my voice. When I say three two one you will open your eyes. Now I want you to go back to when you were three years old. Tell me what you see.’
The young girl was slightly agitated and answered in a baby voice,
‘My daddy is angry with me for drawing on the wall paper.’
John looked at Anne and took a deep breath.
‘Can you go back further?’
‘I see mummy putting dried cow patties on the fire in the kitchen. It is smelly but warm as it is very cold outside. The valley is covered in snow and the animals are inside.’
‘What animals?’
‘The cow, the chickens and the donkey.’
‘Tell me your name.’
‘My name is Blodwyn.’
‘How old are you Blodwyn?’
‘I am nine years and eight months old.’
Both John and Anne could hear a distinct Welsh accent.
‘Do you know what year it is Morag?’
‘Of course I do. It is eighteen forty one.’
‘Go back further if you can.’
Once more the child was restless then settled down.
‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty nine years.’
‘What is your name?’
‘James Pickering.’
‘What work do you do James?’
‘I am a Coach driver. I drive one of the Royal Mail coaches between here and York.’
‘What year is it?’
‘It is Seventeen hundred and twelve. ’There was no mistaking the London cockney accent.
‘Keep listening to my voice. Go back as far as you can.’
After a prolonged bout of moving about the young girl opened her eyes and smiled but she was in a trance.
‘Where are you at this moment?’
‘I am sitting in a tent. I was sleeping but something awakened me.’ ‘How old are you?’
‘I have nineteen summers.’
‘What time is it.?’
‘It is the middle of the night.’
‘Where is the tent pitched?’
‘Beside the Burn of Bannock’
‘What is your job?’
‘I am the Royal Standard Bearer and the Royal scribe.’
‘What is your name?’
‘Sir McLurg.’
‘Sir McLurg who?’
‘Sir Mclurg of Craigencallie.’
‘Who do you bear the Standard for?’
‘King Robbie, Robert the Bruce, the King of Scotland.’
‘What is the date?’
‘It is early morning of the twenty fourth of June, Mid Summer’s Eve in the year thirteen fourteen. We face the English again at first light.
‘I’m bringing her out of it Anne. Three two one.’
Jean’s eyes came into focus.
‘How are you Jean?’ Anne asked with a smile.
‘I’m fine Miss Brodie was I of any help?’
‘You sure were young lass.’ John answered.
‘Can you two come back tomorrow Anne?’
Jean looked at Anne with a questioning look. Anne asked,
‘Do you want to Jean? If you do I will telephone your mum and tell her we will stay at a hotel for the night.’
‘Oh yes Miss I would love that.’
‘Right that’s settled. What time tomorrow John?’
‘Say ten o’clock? But tonight I am taking you ladies out for dinner.’
Jean beamed all over.
******
‘Relax and listen to my voice and watch the crystal again.’
Within ten seconds Jean’s eyes closed.
‘You are in your house in Balmore Street back in Dundee. It is the middle of the night and you are writing. What are you writing about?’
‘I am recording the events that happened at the battle of Bannockburn.’
‘Why?’
‘King Robbie asked me to.’
‘Most people could not write then. Where did you learn?’
‘I did not know how to scribe at that time.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I learned to scribe over the time that has passed from then.’
‘From the battle you mean?’
‘Yes’
John looked at Anne and raised his eyebrows.
‘Where do you get the paper and the ink?’
‘It is always there.’
‘Where do you put the papers after you write on them?’
‘In the top drawer.’
‘How do you lock it when there is no key?
‘I just push the drawer closed and it locks.’
‘And to open it?’
There is a very small sunken indentation on the back near the top. I press it and the drawer opens.’
‘I want you to stop this writing at night.’
Jean moved about and shook her head from side to side,
‘I cannot stop. The account is not finished yet. I must finish this for King Robbie.’
‘How much more has to be accounted for?’
‘Only a little then I am finished and I have kept my promise.’
‘Three two one.’
The two of them caught the afternoon train. Anne had bought the young lass the Girl comic and her head was buried in it at the moment as the train sped through Fife on its way to the Tay Bridge and over to Dundee. Anne sat listening to the clickety clack of the train’s wheels thinking of what she had been a witness to over the past two days. It was exciting and bizarre at the same time but she was worried about Jean. What if it became public knowledge? Would people think that she was some kind of freak? John Maxwell promised he would keep quiet, however he would write a medical paper about the incident, without names of course, and submit it to his acquaintance a Psychology Professor at Edinburgh University for comment.
******

The following morning Anne went to see Mary Gordon in the shop where she worked and asked her to please notify her when Jean stopped her nightly writing and explained what had come out of the hypnotic sessions.
‘Oh dear will she be alright I mean will this affect her in any way?’
‘Not at all Mrs. Gordon Jean has been blessed with a wonderful gift.’
Jean returned to school and funnily enough she was a hero to the rest of the kids in her class. One of the girls Moira stopped her in the corridor between classes,
‘Jean all of us think that you were very brave what you told Miss Brodie, we are very proud of you.’
Jean had no idea what the girl was talking about but thanked her anyway.
Anne dropped the subject of Bannockburn and went on to the Plantagenet period of history.
Thee weeks later Jean gave Anne a note,
‘It’s from my mum Miss.’
******


After school Anne opened it,
Dear Miss Brodie,
Jean stopped writing five nights ago. I wanted to wait until I was sure”.
Regards,
Mary Gordon.
Anne went to see Mary at the shop during a free period the following morning.
‘Can I please have access to Jean’s room specifically the chest of drawers Mrs. Gordon?’
‘Of course Miss Brodie If you come back at lunchtime I close for an hour.’
Anne walked into a very neat bedroom. Nothing like mine she thought. She walked forward to the heavy chest of drawers and leaning forward ran her hand along the back. Finding the small indentation Anne pressed it.
There was the slightest of clicks barely audible. She pulled the handle of the top drawer and it opened. It was full of very old parchment paper covered in writing.
This was not Jean’s handwriting. It was larger and bolder with a different slant. Down at the side of the parchments Anne found an old Deer’s horn with a stopper in it and a feather quill pen. Opening the stopper carefully she discovered that it contained a brown inky substance. Looking at the writing again she noticed that it was a slight brown colour. Anne called Mrs. Gordon who was busy making a cup of tea and showed her what she had found. Mary was quite frightened and would not come near the drawer.
‘Can I take these away?’
‘Please do Miss. I don’t want them in my house’
Anne went down to a nearby grocery shop and asked for an empty cardboard box.
Back upstairs she carefully placed all the papers inside. Lying underneath the papers she found a beautiful ornate dagger with what she took to be a large Cairngorm stone at the top of the hilt which she put into the box as well and placed the ink and pen on top. Thanking Mary for the cup of tea she took her leave.
Her mind was preoccupied the rest of that Friday afternoon. She kept thinking about what was in the boot of her car. When the final bell sounded she told her class to dismiss. Later at home in Broughty Ferry she marked some homework and then settled down to read. Delicately removing the manuscript from the box she thought that she would have to reverse them in order but to her surprise she discovered that this had already been done. They were neatly numbered and settling back in her armchair Anne Brodie picked up the first page and stepped back six hundred and seventy three years in time.








Schiltron
1



Midsummer’s Eve
23rd June 1314

James Douglas and the Hereditary Marischal of Scotland Sir Robert Keith rode into the Scottish camp about noon and sought out King Robbie. They had ridden south through Torwood forest very quietly and had been watching the advancing English army of Edward the second.
Finding the king James Douglas spoke,
‘Sire the English army is at least two miles long and approaches on either side of the old Falkirk road. They seem to be all over the land like stalks of wheat in a large field.’
‘Stay your tongues about this and say instead that they advance in disorder.’
Speaking to both of them he pointed to the local villagers and other Scots, who had come to see the fighting,
‘Move these people to the woods behind Coxet hill where the Steward’s schiltrons and my Ghillies are.’
‘I will attend to it Sire’ Sir Robert replied and left.
The Douglas looked at his friend and King,
‘How are you Robbie?’
Robert the Bruce looked back at his long time friend,
‘If you say there are that many English approaching Jamie then I wonder if I was not too hasty in throwing down the gauntlet to that English pompom.’
James Douglas laughed at his King’s description of Edward the Second of England who was well known for his preference to men rather than women.
‘Ask the men if you were wrong Robbie. Maybe we are out numbered but we fight for different causes. Ours is for freedom and theirs because they have to. How long have you fought for freedom Robbie, eighteen years is it no?’
‘Aye it must be all of that Jamie. How are your men in spirit I mean?’
‘Behind you to the last man Sire.’
The Bruce looked up at the word Sire and noticed that young McLurg was approaching them.
‘Please excuse us James but remain, I want words with this young Squire.’
‘Certainly Sire.’ And bowing James Douglas stood back.
‘How are you McLurg?’
Bowing the young man replied,
‘I am at your service Sire.’
‘I dinnae mean that I mean how are you in spirit?’
‘Fine Sire I thank you for asking.’
‘I want you to do something for me McLurg. Today and the days to come in this battle I want you to stay by my Standard at all times and never leave it. I also want you to record the events of the battle as they happen.’
‘As you command Sire.’
‘Good now kneel.’ And withdrawing his sword placed it on McLurg’s right then left shoulder,
‘I dub thee McLurg, Royal Standard Bearer and my Royal Scribe.
The young man was totally flabbergasted and did not know what to say as Robert the Bruce spoke,
Rise, Sir Mclurg of Craigencallie.’
The only words he could think of, was,
‘Thank you Sire but I do not know how to scribe.’
‘You will Sir Mclurg when the time comes laddie you will.’
Robert the Bruce removed a dirk from his belt. The sheath was inlaid with gold and silver and the dagger itself had a large beautiful gem stone at the top of its handle. He held it out to the young man,
‘Take this and remember well but hold on a moment.’
The King went to his tent and came out with a large white feather.
Wear this in your bonnet; it will inform others that you have been knighted on the battle field. That will give you access to my division leaders to find out how the fighting went. Remember to guard my Standard well.’
‘To the death Sire.’
The young man rose to his feet and bowed himself out of the King’s tent.
‘May I ask why Robert? The Douglas enquired after the boy had left.
‘Sit ye a while Jamie and I will tell ye.’
Thinking back the King smiled to himself. He had promised the boy’s mother that he would look after him and making him the Standard Bearer was one sure way of keeping the lad out of the battle unless things went terribly wrong.
McLurg’s two elder brothers were with the Ettrick bowmen both being excellent archers. Their names were McKie and Drummond. They all had the same mother but different fathers. Their mother was three times a widow. A few years previously she had shown great kindness to the King while he was a fugitive and this was one debt he intended rewarding.
He had walked into Craigencallie alone utterly exhausted and ravenous with hunger. The widow looked up at his bedraggled figure,
‘Are you King Robert?’
He looked around him and saw there were only the old woman and three young men. Fearing no threat he replied,
‘Yes I am. What made you ask woman?’
‘Two days ago this place was swarming with English soldiers on horses. Their leader called himself Sir Aymer de Valence or something and I was ordered to get word to the nearest English stronghold if any strangers passed by. They said they were hunting for Robert Bruce, an imposter who called himself the King of Scotland. If they found out that I had helped him in anyway all of us would be hanged and my house burned.’
‘In that case I will take my leave. I cannot risk your lives.’
He turned to go but the widow stopped him
‘You will do no such thing King Robbie!’
Later, after being fed sitting by the kitchen fire his eyes were closing and he opened them wide with a start. The widow covered him with a blanket of deer skin,
‘Remove these wet clothes King Robbie. There is a bed in the back and you must sleep ‘
He looked at her and she knew what he was thinking,
Smiling at him she placed her hand on his shoulder,
‘A little while ago you were ready to refuse help if it meant risking our lives King Robbie. Now we ask you to place your life in our hands Sire. Go and rest. You are safe and sound here with us.’
‘A proud and loyal gesture, Sire.’
‘Indeed it was Jamie. I ask you to spread the word to the commanders
regarding my Royal scribe Sir McLurg.’
2
Robert the Bruce had chosen his defence position well with Coxet hill at his rear and Torwood Forest to his right. Large pits had been dug with sharpened wooden stakes in them hidden by a covering of sticks and grass. Should one of the charging horses step in them, both horse and rider were out of the battle. The knights were so heavily armoured that they could not rise to their feet and would simply lie there waiting for certain death from a battle axe or a dirk.
******

Since throwing down the gauntlet to Edward the Second of England, the King of Scotland had been rigorously training the spearmen who formed the schiltrons to become mobile. It took quite a while to train them. Eventually they succeeded and could form a schiltron from a line two men deep into a square in a matter of seconds. They could move sideways, forward, swing left and right still in the square formation.
It was about two weeks before the battle and the Bruce was sitting on a tree stump drawing on a patch of bare earth with a stick in deep thought. Suddenly he sat up and called for his brother Edward, James Douglas, Thomas Randolph, Robert Keith and the schiltron Chiefs. When all of them arrived he asked,
‘Are the schiltrons ready?’
‘Yes Sire they are. They have the timing correct now.’
‘Good now I want you to teach them something new besides the moving in a square formation. Train your schiltrons to open out into two ranks one behind the other facing forward very fast then each end to curve around forming a large circle of spears two rows deep facing inwards like this.’
He began drawing on the soil. Glancing up he saw the puzzlement on their faces and continued,
‘To reach our positions the English heavy horse will have to charge uphill. They will attack our Standard the Red Rampant Lion, of this I am sure, it is their way. I am confident they will not break through our lines. After the second regrouping for the third attack their horses will be near total exhaustion. The schiltrons will now take the fight to the enemy and just before contact we open up the schiltrons and surround them giving them no room to manoeuvre.
They have never had the experience of being attacked by spears especially in this manner. I am sure it will take the sting out of their tails. Each man to carry a battle axe strapped around his waist to hamstring the horses. When the rider falls to the ground he is a dead man.’
The King looked at the Douglas.
‘Jamie I want you to train your schiltrons to try out an idea that young Mclurg suggested. That is to form an arrow formation four men deep along the sides. This will be used to drive a wedge into the English main infantry later in the battle. What think you about these tactics gentlemen?’
The Douglas exclaimed,
‘Sire they are brilliant!’
‘Do not say that yet Sir James they still have to be proven on the field. Now discuss it with the schiltron ranks. I would like their opinion it is important to me what they think. Who knows? Some of them may have other thoughts.’
As the sun slowly waned in the western skies later that evening one of the perimeter guards galloped into camp and came straight to King Robbie.
‘Sire there is a vast host approaching from the North West there must be thousands of them.’
King Robbie mounted his pony,
‘Come show me lad.’
They rode off together to the lookout point where the young guard had observed the approaching horde.
‘Are they hostile to us Sire?’
King Robert just smiled.
‘Nay lad, that they are not. They are my Gillies, Gallgaels from Galloway, Highland mountain warriors, my wild Highlanders. They come to fight and reap the spoils of war. See they are led by Angus Og son of the chief of Clan Donald. Ride back to camp and bade them prepare a fitting welcome for these tired and hungry men.’
Hungry yes but tired definitely not. Although they had been running over hill and glen for the previous twelve hours, as soon as they had eaten and slaked their thirst it was time for the games to take place. Who could lift the heaviest stone? Who was the best wrestler and fighter? Which, inevitably ended up in free for all, fist fights. Robert the Bruce sat late into the night discussing tactics for the battle with the Highland Chiefs and what he wanted them to do.
3

He knew that the weakest point in the Scottish defence was the western flank. King Robbie had been informed that about five hundred enemy cavalry were slowly approaching this area along a narrow bridle path which would take them out of sight of the Scottish positions obviously to come between the main battlefield and Stirling castle.
He sent for Randolph and told him what he wanted,
“Pull your divisions back behind the hill to lure the enemy in and when you feel the time is right, attack.’
This was done and soon a detachment of English cavalry, led by Clifford and De Beaumont, came into view. Suddenly Randolph’s spearmen came running over the hill blocking their path. Clifford looking for an easy victory ordered the charge. Randolph’s men instantaneously formed two schiltrons.
Clifford was one of the first to die upon the waiting spears. The cavalry regrouped and once more charged the Scottish schiltrons. This happened time and again. More and more died on this impenetrable blockade of steel and the remaining mounted knights were in total chaos. Their dead lay all around the schiltrons thwarting any further charges and they had resorted to throwing hand weapons at the schiltrons with no effect.

******

James Douglas led a force of two hundred of his men to reinforce Randolph his friend should they be needed. However, The Douglas and his men arrived to discover that it was the English Knights who required help not the Scots. The cavalry had retreated a small distance away and when the schiltrons charged them they scattered in a blind panic. The shoe was on the other foot as the Scottish spearmen bludgeoned their way into the mounted knights who were in each other’s way. Many were unhorsed and died and the rest fled in utter terror.
Two hundred of English chivalry lay dead upon the field including Sir Clifford and Sir Beamont. This was the first Scottish rout of the battle.
‘Well done Thomas.’
‘Thank you James. Why are you here?’
The Douglas smiled at his friend,
‘I promised your mother that I would look after you, that’s why.’
He sent his steed at the gallop, with Randolph chasing behind him laughing.
Reaching the main Battlefield they took up their respective positions in the Scottish line facing the might of the English army. Word soon spread amongst the Scottish divisions about what had taken place with Randolph and his men and a tremendous cheer went up. This was the second cheer of the day from the Scottish ranks. The first had come after a rather daunting occurrence.
King Robbie had been riding along the front of the troops giving them encouragement and was just passing his own division when he heard the approach of a heavily armoured horse and rider thundering towards him from the English lines. He recognised the crest on the Knight’s helmet as one Henry De Bohun who at that moment lowered his lance and aimed straight for him. The Scottish ranks were helpless, it had happened so quickly.
The Bruce steadied his small pony watching De Bohun charging upon him. He waited his ground until from a few yards away, deftly swung his steed aside to the left and as his opponent surged past he stood upright as far as he could in the saddle and swung his battle axe with tremendous force. De Bohun’s head flew to one side still enclosed in the crested helmet. With a dead man at the reins the horse lost momentum until it stopped. Edward Bruce the King’s brother despatched some men to make sure the King was not injured. Upon their arrival the Bruce ordered,
‘Remove his armour and tie his body onto his horse. Put his head without the helmet on his lance and tie it to the pommel of his saddle then send his horse back to the English lines.’
The spearmen carried out the grisly task and slapped the horse’s armour with the flat of their battle axes on its flanks and it sped towards the enemy lines with De Bohun’s head leading the way accompanied with a cheer from the Scottish ranks.




The ground trembled as the first cavalry attack by the English charged our right wing straight towards me. The enemy were heavily armoured as were the destriers that they were mounted upon. In front at full gallop were the Earls of Gloucester and Hereford along with two thousand, knights and mounted infantry. Quite a few had fallen into the concealed pits but the rest had simply ridden over them. The schiltrons under King Robbie prepared themselves by grounding their fifteen foot spears and bracing muscles presenting an unassailable wall of steel pikes to repulse the charging armour. The impact when it came was disastrous for the English. There was a great clash of spears and many knights tumbled from their horses dead before they hit the ground. Gloucester went down unhorsed but managed to get away safely stumbling towards the English position. The Schiltrons never wavered and any broken spears were quickly replaced. The screaming of the horses that had been pierced by the spears was abysmal upon my ears. The ground was covered with blood, ankle deep, it was everywhere. I could not think of the horses as gentle creatures that they were. I had to think of them as enemy machines of war.
The first charge by the heavy English cavalry had been completely repulsed by our schiltrons and our lines had not wavered in any way at all.
Broughty Ferry,
A suburb of Dundee.
Anne Brodie’s house.

Anne finished the page she was reading and got up to make herself some toast and tea. Coming back to her seat she placed the plate of toast and a jar of Kiellor’s marmalade beside her cuppa on the small table at the side of the chair.
Spreading her toast Anne took a bite when she felt a surreal presence in her room. The temperature dropped suddenly. Getting up she looked behind her and she saw a very clear picture of the battle and a very handsome young man looking up at the Scottish flag above his head. He had a large white feather in his cap. The noise of battle was all around her as well as the blood at her feet. The man looked directly at Anne and as he smiled the apparition faded away ever so slowly. She almost wanted to shout “Don’t go” but she refrained.
The experience she had just witnessed was weird but wonderful at the same time. The funny thing was at no time had she been frightened. Picking up her cup she took a sip only to find that her tea was cold. Anne went and made herself a fresh cup of tea and coming back she sat down picked up the next page and continued reading.


5


Later that night there was much sounds of movement from the English camp. King Robbie sent McLurg to summon the Schiltron commanders and the Douglas to attend a council,
‘Jamie, take a few men and find out what the English are about.’
James Douglas returned within a short space of time.
‘Sire it is unbelievable! The English have moved camp onto the Carse. Their attack in the morning will have to be over the gorge. If we attack them with our schiltrons as they try to cross the gorge we are sure of victory. They will have no room to manoeuvre.’
‘I agree Sir James. After their first cavalry charge we will advance the left and right divisions. The centre division led by you will form the spear formation and attack the main infantry and when the time is right I will unleash the Highland host. My Gillies.’
Turning to the Marischal of Scotland he requested,
‘Sir Robert I want you and your five hundred horse to rout the Welsh bowmen. I fear them most.’
‘As you command Sire.’





6


I am walking amongst the dead enemy. The smell of death is all around and my boots are squelching in the pools of blood. There are a few dead Scottish infantry scattered here and there and in the distance I hear shouts of panic from the English as King Robbie’s Gillies reach them and begin the slaughter. These wild men from the mountains of Scotland have no discipline whatsoever. Each individual is a killing machine using their huge battleaxes and swords. There is no planned battle tactics with them it is shear strength and brute force. No circling or flanking left or right it is full frontal attack screaming their Clan war cries no matter what formidable force is in their way.
The horses are quiet now and the loud buzzing of the flies is everywhere as they gorge themselves on the blood. In a few days time the corpses and the animal carcases will be covered in maggots I imagine. King Robbie has left strict instructions not to touch or loot the dead until his return under penalty of death should they ignore him.
There were a few hundred people looking onto the battlefield from Coxet hill behind me. Women, old men and young children but not one of them made a move towards the carnage below where the spoils of war were plentiful. Gold plated armour from the English knights: beautiful swords with adornments of gold on the hilts: gold and silver rings on dead fingers not to mention the fine clothes worn by some all of which would not be needed by them again.
The King’s battle plan had indeed paid off. After receiving news that Sir Robert Keith and his cavalry of 500 had completely routed the Welsh bowmen he set his plan into action. As the English cavalry, unable to breach through the Scottish line once more, rode back to regroup for another charge, the left and right schiltrons on the Bruce’s signal surged forward at a fast pace towards them and this caused confusion amongst the horsemen. They had never experienced anything like this before as they were used to attacking defence positions hoping to force their way through with sheer weight not being attacked by foot soldiers. Quite soon they realised that they had no room to get up enough speed for a charge and before they knew it the schiltrons had opened up and encircled them with deadly accuracy in no time at all. They could only throw their lances at these kilted warriors causing little damage then the schiltrons moved in for the kill with their fifteen foot spears and dirks. Meanwhile the Douglas had driven a wedge straight through the enemy force and it was at that moment that Robert the Bruce unleashed the wild Highlanders. If the English infantry and cavalry were taken by surprise at the attack by the schiltrons they tried to flee in panic at the sight of this formidable force of screaming barefooted warriors descending upon them. But there was nowhere to run to and no retreat as the rear was blocked. Many were trampled to death by their own countrymen trying to escape. Others were drowned in the river Forth and Scotland had won the field. What followed is for another time but without doubt the schiltrons won the day at Bannockburn. I have kept my promise to King Robert, I am finished now and I go to rest.
Anne put down the last page and sat back in the comfortable chair with a far away look on her pretty face. She felt utterly exhausted but got up and replaced the manuscript along with the pen and ink on top of the dirk in the cardboard box intending to take it to John Maxwell at the first opportunity. She phoned him at his house in Edinburgh.
“John? Hello it’s Anne I’ve found and read Jean’s writings it is absolutely unreal and it is not in Jean’s handwriting. It’s all about the battle of Bannockburn and what went on you must read it, it is amazing.
“Slow down Anne I am coming through to Dundee tomorrow and we can do lunch. You can tell me all about it then. Bring the manuscript with you. Book a table at the Kinnear restaurant and I’ll see you about 12.30 OK?
“OK John, see you then.”
She hung up and went to bed.
During the night she awakened to feel the same strange feeling that she had experienced previously along with the drop in temperature but this time she could not move. It felt as if she was paralysed. She could only lie there; her eyes wide open but felt no fear. The room began to warm up and she fell sound asleep. She woke up with a start, had she been dreaming? She asked herself. Definitely not but why had she not been able to move?
Getting up Anne went through to the front room. The box was still there where she had left it. Going into the kitchen she lit the gas under the kettle and then walked to the bathroom to run the water for her morning bath. Before getting into the bath she turned the gas down a bit. This was her daily morning routine – kettle on - bath – get dressed – hair - make up - cup of tea – off to school.
Sitting in the bath she was thinking “I can’t just walk into Kinnears restaurant lugging a cardboard box. What will people think?”
Drying herself she went back to the kitchen and turned the gas down to the lowest setting, got dressed then did her hair and make up. Emptying her large briefcase of homework papers and other school paraphernalia Anne picked up the cardboard box but it felt lighter somehow and placed it on the table.
She lifted the flaps and the room began to spin. Anne sat down quickly, she felt nauseous and wanted to cry. The box was half full of dust with the remains of the dirk hardly recognisable. The leather sheath had completely disintegrated except for the very fine gold and silver leaf. The blade and hilt were almost rusted away. There was no sign of the deer horn or quill pen. The large cairngorm stone, however, was still there.
After twenty minutes or so had passed and the pounding in her heart had calmed down she got up and made herself some tea. Then she sat down at her Remington typewriter and began to write very quickly.
Miss Anne Brodie, had also been blessed with a special gift, an excellent memory and fully intended keeping her lunch appointment.



<><><><>



John Maxwell was waiting for Anne as she walked into the restaurant. He stood up as she approached the table and kissed her on the cheek.
‘How’s it Brodie?’
‘Fine Maxwell, I’ve something to tell you.’
After they had ordered their meal and were sipping a glass of wine, John asked,
‘What is it you have to tell me?’
Anne opened her briefcase and placed the remains of the dirk on the table. She spoke quietly for a few minutes. John listened attentively and could see the disappointment in her eyes. He reached over and squeezed her hand.
‘The recordings that I take whenever I have someone under deep hypnosis also erased themselves Anne. I listened to them quite a few times after you and Jean left to catch your train. Early this morning I took the tape to the university, to let one of my colleagues hear it for his comments and guess what?’



Six months later.


On the morning of their wedding day John had a present hand delivered to Anne, a beautiful brooch with a cairngorm stone inset into a gold and silver setting. The gold and silver did not have any hall marks. Anne wore it in her wedding gown.
At the reception in the Queens Hotel the bridal pair stood receiving their guests who wished them luck with hugs and the occasional kiss on the cheek. Mary Gordon and her two daughters had been invited. When Jean came up and hugged Anne she spoke ever so quietly,
‘Wear it with pride and honour Miss Anne.’
There was no time to ask questions as there were other guests to greet.

<><><><>

Later sitting at the brides table beside her husband Anne had a perplexed look on her face but it was not what Jean had said. She could not put her foot on it then it suddenly struck her. It had not been Jean’s voice who had spoken in her ear but the same voice who had told her in her classroom that he had been at the battle of Bannockburn. Anne looked down the left hand table where the Gordon family were sitting and Jean smiled at her for a fleeting moment. Anne felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. It was not Jean smiling but the face of the young man looking up at the Royal Standard of Scotland. Anne closed her eyes for a few seconds and looked again and saw Jean’s happy smiling face. ‘What is wrong darling?’ John had been watching her and noticed a few tears welling up in her eyes,
‘I’ll tell you later John but I think we have an extra, not invited but ever so welcome guest, today.’