Bannockburn Live

 

 

Bruce lost in his way to the battle.

29/6

I got up early and made sure I was on the first shuttle bus and almost connected to some smart American women about 40 and looking very sprite, but somehow it didn’t quite work and I headed upstairs on the doubledecker feeling things once again were falling apart. We arrived and I then joined the queue to be one of the first in as I rushed in front only to be turned back and end up behind the Americans. It was very commercial.

Damsels singing bawdy bards about Bruce in front of his huge iron horse. Full of food stalls of Scottish haggis and stag with tartan, pipes and clan genealogy thrown in.

Elderly people were herded into a tent giving a lecture on finding your Scottish roots through research tools, dull old professors talked on looking up parish records, citizens rolls, and the excitement of finding a baptism record coinciding with marriage and death, and perhaps the titillation of a divorce and priestly hearing on the matter. I dropped into the Buchanan clan tent and was soon sent on my way ending up at the McPhersons who seemed to come from Loch Lomand of all places, they propelled me onto the Donalds, who were also Morrison septs who were based in the Hebrides in the south, claiming rulership of the whole Hebrides including over the McLeods, who the Morisons were law makers for. There were no Morrisons on the site and I ended up at a puppet show for kids about a little boy trying to win a ticket to the footy.

I continued on alone round the festival going into the little recreated village of the armies of Bannockburn. The actors or medieval fighters were there in the village and I chatted to a few of them who played their roles well. Though sunglasses were perhaps not invented then.

A falconer with an owl preparing for battle. Was it to send a message to the Templars for more Knights? Or was Merlin afoot, out of time and era?

I took photos and met by chance the ‘Black’ James Douglas suiting up and he told me he wanted to go to Spain to see where he had died at Teba. This current Douglas was of Swedish extraction. And as I later discovered a major clue in the Murison Treasures.

A village idiot turned up with a chair on his head, clearly English and explaining to the police that the chair had many uses as he was chased away by a swordsman. Scottish police don’t always have the best sense of humour and tend to take things literally as I later found out.

King Edward approaches his troops kneeling in prayer before battle. God was on his side. Perhaps?

I moved onto the battle which was done quite well with historically accurate commentary and explanations of battle formations.

As well as the challenge of Bruce by the knight before the battle in one to one combat on horseback. Where Bruce avoids the lance and kills him with his battle axe, breaking his axe on his head in the process.

Fighting between the lords on the English side. One earl changing sides midway to the Scots. All looking a bit like upset chess pieces.

The spearman forming in the wood on the steep incline leading to the burn and then charging English cavalry were shown being repelled by them. Then a demonstration of the spear formation for the crowds facing them.

The charge by the Scot spearmen and then mass hand to hand combat with a Scot’s cavalry charge resulting in the English being forced into the boggy burn and fleeing. Though they didn’t show the little folk and women attacking which they could have easily done given they had enough of them in the village. I took video and feeling a decided lack of Scots support for Bruce yelled out at the top of my voice ‘Long Live Scotland’ when the Scots repelled Edward. The Sunday crowd were a little more elderly and shy. Finally to get things going I began cheering Edward to see if that would motivate them. There was little response. I began to think the Scots would never leave England ruling over them.

I headed out and ended up at the Royal tent of Edward just before he gave a TV interview denying it had been a defeat. We discussed history and his wife’s marriage to the French princess and how she had him imprisoned. I asked him if the girl in his tent was French. This caused some discomfort for the young Englishman who replied she had gone with her coattails back to France. I responded saying ‘well isn’t that where you are heading next? What are you doing in your tent, you should be in flight towards England!’

I marched up to some tables of ale and mutton where a fat American African was sitting in chain mail. I asked him if he was a Moor from the Crusades and had been captured and converted from Islam by the Templars. Did he know of the three Moor’s heads a certain Scottish knight Templar may have beheaded? He told me he indeed was connected to the Templars and his master was from Aberdeen. The American worked doing computer programming there. He had raised himself from poverty to make his dreams come true in Scotland. But I talked to his laird and he wasn’t a Templar at all, but hated them, and in fact was a Teutonic Knight. I told him they were Prussian and not in Scotland. ‘Here for a visit and a battle.’ He replied. I wanted to ask him if he had been to Spain and met per chance a Scottish Templar called Kenneth who had beheaded three Moors, but his dark friend gave me a stern look.

I took a photo of a peasant woman pouring water using my media card to inspire her to pose, which I had now put on to get some respect to my research..

Buchanan Clan

I attempted to connect to some Americans at a food table where I ate my packed lunch. A Scottish group turned up from Aberdeen as well. Headed off to the Buchanans tent again trying to find out more about the Morison septs. And one became interested when he saw my media pass. Some free publicity. Advertising. One of them was a Scots nationalist and didn’t like the aristocracy; saying the Bruce’s were as good as Norman English. I offered to email the old guy his photo then lost his email.

Then I listened to some Gaelic bands but again the Scots would hardly get up and dance and showed that oppressed reserve and I felt they needed to be freed to express themselves. Freed from English oppression to find their own identity and stand up and be proud to be Scottish and independent. To get up and dance and to shout out Long Live Scotland.

A comedian started up a routine rubbishing the English, but also the Scots and their indifference to anything including freedom.

Finally I returned to the medieval village in a last ditch attempt to trigger some past life memories of the battle back then. I switched off and onto 1314. I simply ignored everyone except the dressed up medieval warriors. Spliced myself back into that era. And tried to psychically experience the truth of the past, see visions of that age and what happened and how my birthday was connected to it all. But again nothing much happened. I got no real feeling of connection to any of it. Looking across the green fields to the hills I felt some connection. It did feel a Templar connection. I was kind of disembodied as if I was priest walking round as I stared at the pageantry, aloof from the people, almost like a knight, or a messenger, an angel visiting them, that they were slightly afraid of or in awe of. Perhaps a lord. Perhaps a Templar. Perhaps an educated man who was on neither side. I got this sense when I saw some English soldiers that I had been on their side and deserted them and could not go back. Was stuck in Scotland. A Templar who had been pushed through foul means from the English side to the Scots and didn’t really belong with them.

I got the shuttle back and saw a Baptist church next door and a service was on so I popped in and ended up in a long conversation about Scottish independence and the elder wanted zero max – in other words the Union, but all power transferred to Scotland except defense and foreign affairs. I ate some food in the hostel, and Jade offered me fish which I took. He was heading off to his DJ friend in France and was getting orders to have his son 3 weeks a year, fed up with his ex blocking him seeing his kid. I looked at her texts and I told him it just looked like stuff ups caused by a bad connection and might not be deliberate. His mother had got slightly pissed the night before coming back from a pub and I found it pretty embarrassing. I chatted for a long time to an American professor about politics then plant morphology and cell structure. A leaf had only about 10 cells width I was surprised to hear and the cells were about 10 times longer than a human cell. Chloroplast was a factory in the cell that allowed photosynthesis through splitting water into oxygen and a proton that released energy in the form of a sugar. I got the feeling I was wasting my time and went to bed in the small dorm where a couple of girls were. But it was empty as they were all out. Next I knew they came in and I was in erotic dreams, but this was terminated by guys entering with video cams going dressed as giant chickens all very drunk. This continued for a few hours such that I got little sleep. Willy Wallace Hostel was living up to its reputation.