Johnstone crest

One of the visitors to our site told us about this great Clan Johnstone legend:

The Battle of Dryfe Sands on the 6th of December, 1593 saw the Johnstones and the Maxwells fight it out near the town of Lockerbie.
On the day of the battle Lady Johnstone went out with her maidservant to see how it was all going. She locked up the castle and took the castle key with her (which was a huge iron number). During her walk she came across a ‘regal looking man’, badly wounded and propped up against a tree. He stretched out a hand and begged for her help. He was Lord Maxwell.
Upon recognising her husband’s enemy Lady Johnstone promptly stoved the man’s head in with the castle key.

Dryfe Sands battle site

There is another version of how Lord Maxwell died that day.
The Maxwells were desperate to rid the land of their sworn enemy the Johnstones, and so decided to launch a surprise attack. However, fortunately for Sir James Johnstone, he was somehow warned of the approaching Maxwells. He knew that this was going to be a desperate fight for their existence and so hurriedly called for some assistance from the Grahams, Scotts, Carrutherses, Irvings, Elliots and others, and managed to raise an army of, perhaps, around 800 men.
It said that Lord Maxwell offered a reward to whichever man could bring either the hand or the head of Sir James. Upon hearing this Johnstone made a similar pledge.

On the 6th of December Lord Maxwell and his army approached the Johnstone town of Lockerbie, near a place called Dryfe Sands. Johnstone came up with a plan, and, as the Maxwells marched on, he kept most of his men hidden, only sending out a small number of horsemen to attract the attention of the Maxwell vanguard, and then rout.
The plan worked and the vanguard broke its ranks chasing after the Johnstone horsemen, allowing the main body of Johnstone men to make a surprise attack on the disorganised and surprised Maxwells.
The Johnstones went on to slaughter around 700 Maxwells, and those they didn’t kill were slashed in the face with a sword, recieving horrible wounds which were to become known as ‘Lockerbie Licks’.
During the carnage, it is said that Lord Maxwell begged for his life, offering to surrender. He stretched out his hand, and instead of accepting it, Sir James Johnstone cut off the arm and then killed him.
Legend has it that Johnstone kept the arm and head of Lord Maxwell as trophies, reminding everyone of their decisive victory against the Maxwells.

Whichever way Lord Maxwell did die, whether he was bludgeoned by Lady Maxwell and her castle key, or if he was slain by the sword of Sir James Johnstone, one thing that is for sure, it probably wasn’t a pleasant death.

Pass of Killiecrankie

The Battle of Killiecrankie, fought on the 16th of July, 1689, was part of the Jacobite Risings trying to get James VII/II back on the throne in Scotland, England, and Ireland. It was a bloody victory for the Highland Jacobite army against the government troops (mainly comprising of lowland Scots, incorrectly referred to as ‘English’) who supported William and Mary of Orange.

There were thousands killed at Killiecrankie - mostly Government men, but also, notably, the Jacobite commander, Viscount ‘Bonnie’ Dundee - so it’s not surprising that there are a number of ghost stories surrounding the area where the battle was fought.
Here is one taken and adapted from Elliott O’Donnell’s book ‘Scottish Ghost Stories‘.

“On a cycle tour in Scotland, making Pitlochry my temporary headquarters, I rode over one evening to view the historic Pass of Killiecrankie. It was late when I arrived there, and the western sky was one great splash of crimson and gold - such vivid colouring I had never seen before and never have seen since.

I paid no heed to the time, nor did I think of stirring, until the dark shadows of the night fell across my face. I then started up in a panic, and was about to pedal off in haste, when a notion suddenly seized me: I had a latchkey, plenty of sandwiches, a warm cape, why not camp out there till early morning?
The idea was no sooner conceived than put into operation. Selecting the most comfortable-looking boulder I could see, I scrambled on to the top of it, and, with my cloak drawn tightly
over my back and shoulders, commenced my vigil. The cold mountain air, sweet with the perfume of gorse and heather, intoxicated me, and I gradually sank into a heavenly torpor, from which I was abruptly aroused by a dull boom, that I at once associated with distant
musketry. All was then still as the grave, and, on glancing at my watch, I saw it was two in the morning.

A species of nervous dread now laid hold of me which oppressed and disconcerted me. Moreover, I was impressed for the first time with the extraordinary solitude which seemed to belong to a period far other than the present. This feeling at length became so acute, that, in a panic of fear - ridiculous, puerile fear, I forcibly withdrew my gaze of the area and concentrated it abstractedly on the ground at my feet. I then listened, and in the rustling of a leaf, the humming of some night insect, the whizzing of a bat, the whispering of the wind as it moaned softly past me, I detected something that was not right. I blew my nose, and had barely ceased marvelling at the loudness of its reverberations, before the piercing, ghoulish shriek of an owl sent the blood in torrents to my heart. I then laughed, and my blood froze as I heard a chorus, of what I tried to persuade myself could only be echoes, proceed from every crag and rock in the valley. For some seconds after this I sat still, hardly daring to breathe, and acting extremely angry with myself for being such a fool. With a stupendous effort I turned my attention to the most material of things. One of the skirt buttons on my hip - they were much in vogue then - being loose, I endeavoured to occupy myself in tightening it, and when that was done, I set to work on my shoes, and tied knots in the laces. But this, too, ceasing at last to attract me, I was desperately racking my mind for some other device, when there came again the booming noise I heard before, but which I could now no longer doubt was of firearms. I looked in the direction of the sound and my heart almost stopped.
Racing towards me - as if not merely for his life, but his soul - came the figure of a Highlander, with eyes fixed ahead of him in a ghastly, agonised stare. He had not a vestige of colour, and, in the powerful glow of the moonbeams, his skin shone livid.
He ran with huge bounds, and, what added to my terror and made me double aware he was nothing mortal, was that each time his feet struck the hard, smooth road, upon which I could well see there were no stones, there came the unmistakable sound of the scattering of gravel. But on he came, with cyclonic swiftness. It was all infernally, hideously real, even to the minutest of details: the flying up and down of his kilt, sporran, and sword less scabbard; the bursting of the seam of his coat, near the shoulder. I tried hard to shut my eyes, but was compelled to keep them open, and follow his every movement as, darting past me, he left the roadway, and, leaping several of the smaller obstacles that barred his way, finally disappeared behind some large boulders.
I then heard the loud rat-tat of drums, accompanied by the shrill voices of fifes and flutes, and at the farther end of the Pass, their arms glittering in the moonlight, appeared a regiment of scarlet-clad soldiers.

At the head rode a mounted officer, after him came the band, and then, four abreast, a long line of warriors; in their centre two ensigns, and on their flanks, officers and non-commissioned officers with swords and pikes; more mounted men bringing up the rear.  I could hear the ground vibrate, the gravel crunch and scatter, as enormously tall men, with set, white faces and livid eyes steadily and mechanically advanced.
Every instant I expected they would see me, and I became sick with terror. But from this I was happily saved; no one appeared to notice me, and they all passed by without as much as a turn of the head; their feet keeping time to one everlasting, monotonous tramp.
I got up and watched until the last of them had turned the bend of the Pass, and the sheen of his weapons and trappings could no longer be seen; then I remounted my boulder and wondered if anything further would happen. It was now half-past two, and blended with the moonbeams was a peculiar whiteness, which rendered the whole aspect of my surroundings indescribably dreary and ghostly.

Feeling cold and hungry, I started on my beef sandwiches, when a loud rustling made me look up. Confronting me, on the opposite side of the road, was an ash tree, and to my surprise, despite the fact that the breeze had fallen and there was scarcely a breath of wind, the tree swayed violently to and fro, whilst there proceeded from it the most dreadful moanings and groanings. I was so terrified that I caught hold of my bicycle and tried to mount, but I was unable as I had not a particle of strength in my limbs. Then to assure myself the moving of the tree was not an illusion, I rubbed my eyes and called aloud; but it made no difference - the movement and noise continued. Summing up courage, I stepped into the road to get a closer view, when to my horror my feet kicked against something. Looking down, I saw the body of a Government soldier, with a ghastly wound in his chest. I gazed around, and there, on all sides of me, from one end of the valley to the other, lay dozens of bodies,–bodies of men and horses, - Highlanders and lowlanders, white-cheeked, lurid eyes, and bloody-browed, - a hotch-potch of livid, gory awfulness. Here was the writhing figure of an officer with half his face shot away; and there, a horse with no head. I cannot dwell on such horrors; the very memory makes me feel sick and faint.

The air, that beautiful, fresh mountain air, resounded with their moanings and groanings, and reeked with the smell of their blood. As I stood rooted to the ground with horror I suddenly saw drop from the ash, a Highland girl, with bold, handsome features, raven black hair, and the whitest of arms and feet. In one hand she carried a wicker basket, in the other a broad knife. A gleam of avarice and cruelty came into her large dark eyes, as, wandering around her, they rested on the rich facings of the Government officers’ uniforms. I knew what was in her mind, and - forgetting she was but a ghost - that they were all ghosts - I moved heaven and earth to stop her. I could not. Making straight for a wounded officer that lay moaning piteously on the ground, some ten feet away from me, she spurned with her slender, graceful feet, the bodies of the dead and dying Government soldiers that came in her way. Then, snatching the officer’s sword and pistol from him, she knelt down, and, with a look of devilish glee in her eyes, calmly plunged her knife into his heart, working the blade to assure herself she had made a thorough job of it. Anything more hellish I could not have imagined, and yet it fascinated me - the girl was so wickedly fair and shapely.
Her act of cruelty over, she spoiled her victim of his rings, epaulets, buttons and gold lacing, and, having placed them in her basket, proceeded elsewhere. In cases when unable to remove the rings, she chopped off the fingers, and popped them, just as they were, into her basket. Neither was her mode of dispatch always the same, for while she put some men out of their misery in the manner I have described, she cut the throats of others with as great a nonchalance as if she had been killing fowls, whilst others again she settled with the butt-ends of their guns or pistols. In all she murdered ten, and was decamping with her booty when her gloating eyes suddenly encountered mine, and with a shrill scream of rage she rushed towards me. I was an easy victim. Raising her flashing blade high over her head, an expression of fiendish glee in her staring eyes, she made ready to strike me. This was the climax, my overstrained nerves could stand no more, and ere the blow had time to descend, I pitched heavily forward and fell at her feet. When I recovered, every phantom had vanished, and the Pass glowed with all the cheerful freshness of the early morning sun. Not a whit the worse for my venture, I cycled swiftly home, and ate as only one can eat who has spent the night amid the banks and braes of bonnie Scotland.”

The ruins of Castle Strome sit in the picturesque headland which once formed part of the ancient earldom of Ross. It became the focus of Clan fighting due to it’s strategic location between the lands of the MacDonalds of Glengarry and the MacKenzies of Kintail.

The castle was built in the early 15th Century and during the next two centuries the land surpassed too and fro between the rival clans according to the royal favour of the time, this intensified the bitterness between the MacDonalds and the MacKenzies and eventually spelt disaster for Strome Castle.

The year 1602 saw the castle under seige by the MacKenzies once again. After a long offensive the MacDonalds imprisoned in the castle for so long made two unfortunate blunders. According to an contemporay account some ’silly women’ from the MacDonald Clan left the castle in order to draw water from the well, however they were so fearfull and the light was so bad they made the disaterous mistake of pouring the water into the gun powder vat instead of the water barrel.

When the MacDonald men discovered this blunder they cursed the women loudly, but this made matters worst. A MacKenzie prisoner overheard the commotion in the castle and managed to escape back to his own camp telling his Clan Chief what had happened. Which promted a final attack.

The MacDonalds knew they were facing a sure defeat, their only option was to surrender and to save their lives. Agreeing to this the MacKenzie Clan watched the MacDonalds leave they then blew up the castle. Strome Castle has remained in ruins to this day.

A number of Highland families are in possession of crystal balls which are said to all share certain magical abilities such as the unexplicable cure of humans and animals, as well as ensuring the safe return of men from war or travel. Suprisingly enough, Clan Campbell seem to hold quite a number of them.

None of the crystal balls are especially big, with the largest said to be, at most, around 5 centimetres in diameter. They can be found on their own, or set in metal; with a couple used as the centrepiece in silver brooches.

However, where the crystals actually came from is still somewhat of a mystery. It has been suggested that the crystals date back to as far as the late Iron Age; originating in China where the obtained their magical powers. But some were taken by the Church to be used for Christian purposes and incorporated in reliquaries.
Many examples of these crystal balls, around twenty, have been found in graves in England, with the majority said to date from the Anglo-Saxon period. Three or four have also been found in Ireland, along with other examples in France, Denmark, and Germany.
How they ended up clustered in the West Highlands is strange enough, but so many in the hands of the Campbells is even more puzzling. Some like to think that one of the most plausible explanations of them arriving in Britain is from the Crusades; with many soldiers out in the Middle East it would have been easy enough for them to bring them home. However, if this was the case then it certainly doesn’t fit in with the crystals in England dating to the Anglo-Saxon period, prior to the start of the Crusades, and when Sir Steven Runciman, the great authority on the Crusades, was asked whether he had come across anything of this kind, his answer was a firm and decided ‘no’.
However, it is in fact said that the Breadalbane stone was brought back from Rhodes around the end of the Crusades period by Sir Colin Campbell  (or Cailean Mór Caimbeul) who is one of the earliest attested members of the Clan Campbell.

Here are some examples of the ones that are affiliated with the Campbells.

A’ Clach Bhuidhe of the Campbells of Glenlyon is said to be round or oval in shape, and is set in silver. It is said to bring home safely from war or travel those who drank from a glass with the stone in it, though apparently it has to be dipped in water by the Laird before it becomes effective. Legend has it that a tailor didn’t take the precaution and was the only man of the Glenlyon contingent to fall at Culloden.

The Charmstone of the Campbells of Ballochyle is in possession of the National Museum of Scotland. It is a large crystal used to cure cattle and people of any ailments.

A Charmstone, this one belonging to John Campbell, the Ledaig Bard, is also said to cure ill cattle, however, if someone touches the stone with the index finger of their right hand, then the stone immediately loses its powers.

The Lochnell Charmstone is a small and rather cloudy crystal sphere which can be seen on display at Inveraray Castle.

The Breadalbane charmstone claimed to cure ills, protect its devotees and bring them home safely. This particular stone didn’t seem to work for an unfortunate local young man who went off to fight in the First World War. On the eve of his departure, the soldier from the 6th Black Watch went to the castle to pay his respects to Lord Breadalbane who inturn brought out the charmstone. Following ancient custom, he dipped the crystal in a glass of water from which the he and the local both drank from to ensure his safe return, but it did not work, and the soldier died.
It is this stone that is believed to have been brought back from Rhodes by Sir Colin Campbell.

Charmstone of the Campbells of Inverliever was mentioned in 1610 in a bond of manrent stating ‘ane precious stone’ in possession of Ronald Campbell of Barrichbeyan, but belonging to Angus Campbell of Inverliever. It is thought to be the crystall ball now in the Royal Irish Academy in Dublin. At nearly 4 centimetres in diameter, it was sold by Campbell of Craignish - descendant of Barrichbeyan - in 1855.

It may never be known exactly where some of these crystal balls came from, or even how many ended up in the possession of the Campbells, but what is for certain, they do have some interesting superstitions attached.

Taken and adapted from ‘A History of Clan Campbell, Volume 1′ by Alastair Campbell of Airds

Principal Chief of the Cherokee, John Ross

John Ross was considered one of the greatest chiefs of the Cherokee tribe, having been chief for nearly 40 years from 1828 to 1866, the year of his death. However, John was not how many would have imagined a typical 19th century chief of a Native American tribe to be like. Infact, Ross was politician and a business man, and he was the son of Daniel Ross, a Scottish immigrant trader who settled with the tribe during the American War of Independence, and Mollie McDonald, who was of mixed Cherokee and Scottish blood - her father being an immigrant from Inverness.
Ross fought most of his life for the rights of his Cherokee tribe; most notably fighting against the forced move of the Cherokee nation from their lands in Georgia, Tennessee, Alabama, and North Carolina to the Indian Territory (present day Oklahoma), in the western United States. He was elected principle chief of the Cherokee Nation by free ballot ten successive times, holding the position until the day he died.

John Ross grew up in both Cherokee and frontier American enviroments. However, he came from a relatively affluent family, and so he was able to receive a more than decent education from private white tutors. This allowed him to become the sort of chief he was. Many of the older chiefs from before were not educated to anywhere near the same standard as Ross, and so could not protect and defend the Cherokee interests as well. Ross grew up having experienced both worlds. His time amongst the Cherokee gave him an understanding of their culture and their language, and his education gave him the ability to understand the complexities of negotiating with politicians and a national government, and so was more than capable of taking on his political foes. Principal Chief Pathkiller saw in John Ross a future leader, and so went about training him for the position.
Unfortunately, one of the Cherokee tribe’s most notable foe was President Andrew Jackson, a strong advocate of the Indian Removal policy. Ross did have some influential allies in Washington, however, including the Commissoner for Indian Affairs (1824-1830), Thomas L. McKenny, who described Ross as being the Moses of the Cherokee nation, who “led…his people in their exodus from the land of their nativity to a new country, and from the savage state to that of civilization.”

In the January of 1827, both Principal Chief Pathkiller and his predecessor, Charles Hicks died, leaving William Hicks, Charles’ younger brother, as interim Principal Chief. Though during that time, it is said that John Ross was the real power broker. Many within the tribe were worried that, with the deaths of Pathkiller and Charles Hicks, the time of the Cherokees was short, but Ross and others believed that in order to save the Cherokee and prevent a forced move, legal action would be needed, as would turning the tribe into a recognised nation. It was to have its own constitution, which was modeled on the United States’ one, even including a Sentate and House of Representatives. In October 1827 the constitution was ratified, though not coming into effect until the October of 1828, at which point John Ross was elected as the first Principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation, a role he would be continually elected into until the day he died.
Over the following years Ross continued to fight with the white Americans, who were trying to displace his people, but used the power of words rather than weapons. There were some favourable court rulings when battling with local authorities, but in the end when seeking for Federal protection it was ultimately denied, and in 1830 President Jackson authorised the Indian Removal Act which saw the Jackson administration starting to put real pressure on the Cherokee, amongst others, to move. When Jackson was re-elected in 1832, some within the tribe saw it as an inevitability that they were going to be displaced, and so sought out the best arrangement they could get for the Cherokee Nation from the US Government. In the end, 500 (out of tens of thousands) of the Cherokee backed a treaty to leave their land in excahnge for $5,700,000, and the land in Indian Territory. Despite the fact that this agreement was not signed by a single elected official, and not supported by nine-tenths of the tribe, the US Congress ratified the removal treaty on the 23rd of May, 1836.

Between 1836 and 1839 saw the removal of the Cherokee from their lands in Georgia, Tennessee, Alabama, and North Carolina. Ross tried in vain to overturn the removal treaty. In 1838, Jackson’s successor, Martin van Buren sent US Army and state militia, totalling around 7,000 men, to forcefully remove any men, women and children at gunpoint who hadn’t already left, and send them on their way west. This forced removal came to be known as the “Trail of Tears” - a term used to refer to the removal of all Native American tribes at this time. The 2,200 mile journey saw many lose their lives from the cold, illness, and exhaustion, including John Ross’ own full-blooded Cherokee wife, Quatie, of whom not much is known.

Ross was given permission to help supervise the move, to make sure that his people were looked after, and make the transition as smooth as possible. Though that was not enough to prevent many of his people dying en route. Estimates of how many of the Cherokee died on their mass removal vary, with numbers ranging between 4,000 and 8,000.

Principal Chief John Ross remained solely focused on the interests and protection of his Cherokee tribe even after the move. The Cherokee people were ardant supporters of him, trusting the Scottish Ross with the future of their culture and their society for 40 years, which was something he fought to protect even to his last days.

This ancient church overlooks Loch Duich inbetween Dornie and Shiel Bridge, near Morvich. Known as Clachan Duich or St Dubhthach’s church the graveyard contains many MacRae graves and even a memorial to the MacRae Clan Chief, Sir Colin George MacRae.

There is thought to have been a church on this site as early as 750 AD. In 1050 the church was dedicated to St Dubhthach . It is thought that the church was shelled by the ships that destroyed Eilean Donan Castle. The graveyard of this parish church of Kintail was reconstructed in 1855.

The victorious French troops

Major Duncan Campbell of Inverawe was fatally wounded at the Battle of Carillon in 1758 during the Seven Years’ War. The night before the battle Campbell had a ghostly encounter with his dead foster-brother, and after that meeting he knew that the battle was going to kill him.

Years before Duncan Campbell was even in the army he was spending a quiet night in his Inverawe home when all of a sudden a frantic man rushed in to the house and ran over to touch the hearth, claiming sanctuary. Slightly perplexed by this sudden burst, Campbell asked the stranger what the problem was. The intruder explained that he had killed a man and needed somewhere to hide out. Duncan decided to give the killer the refuge that he so desperately wanted, and hid him in the upper part of the house. Not long after sending the new guest to the room a group of men turned up looking for the killer. The posse told Duncan, to his devastation, that the murder victim was in fact his own foster-brother. However, not wanting to breach the laws of Highland hospitality, Campbell decided to not give up his now very unwelcome guest to the group outside. But rather than keep the killer in his house, Campbell, in a form of compromise, sent the man off to hide in a cave on the remote Ben Cruachan.
That night, as the story goes, the spirit of Duncan’s foster-brother appeared asking if he would give up his killer to recieve the punishment he deserved. Duncan refused the ghost’s request and opted to keep the murderer’s wherabouts a secret. The next night the ghost appeared again, asking the same question and once again Campbell denied the request. The ghost of the foster-brother returned to Duncan again one last time the following night, but this time he did not ask for the killer to be given up. Instead all he said was goodbye, and that he would see him again at “Ticonderoga”, which, at the time, meant nothing to Duncan.
The next day Duncan went up to the cave to bring some food to the murderer, but of course, he had fled, never to be seen again.

As the years passed Duncan Campbell thought less and less of that final nights visit and eventually completely forgot about it. Duncan went on to join the army, where he did well; rising through the ranks to the position of Major in the 42nd Regiment, the Black Watch. During the Seven Years’ War Duncan’s regiment was sent over to North America to fight the French for control of the colonies.
In the July of 1758 British troops, including the 42nd Regiment, under the command of General James Abercrombie, were sent to attack the heavilly defended French fort at Carillon, or as it was known by the natives, Ticonderoga in the modern-day state of New York.
It was unknown to Campbell what the native name for the fort was, until after a final visit from the spirit of his foster-brother. Not long after seeing the ghost, Campbell promptly inquired about whether the word “Ticonderoga” meant anything to anyone. He was soon told that it was the name the natives gave for the area, and as soon as Duncan heard that he knew that he was soon to die.

The attack on Fort Carillon on the 8th of July, 1758 was a disaster for the British troops. General Abercrombie’s tactics were severely criticised, and he was described as an “imbecile”, a “coward”, and even an “old woman” by contemporary and future writers on both sides of the Atlantic.
Abercrombie had a much larger force leading him to be overly confident, believing that it was going to be quick victory for the British, ignoring all of the strategic options that were open to him. Instead he chose to go for a full on frontal assault, which proved to have been one of the worst choices. The British soldiers flung themselves at the French defence, and were cut down by the score.
Abercrombie had plenty of opportunity to withdraw his men and regroup to change his tactics when he saw that his original plans were blatantly failing. Yet he decided to stick to his initial plans and continued with the assault.
The Black Watch regiment were eventually sent in to attack the French fort, and just like the men before them, they were fighting in vain, and suffered heavy casualties.
Among the fallen was Duncan Campbell of Inverawe. He was severely wounded and, in fulfillment of the fate bestowed upon him by the ghost of his foster-brother, died ten days later from his injuries.
Legend has it that, on the afternoon of the attack, the clouds over Inverary Castle replicated the attack, showing the carnage and British loss.

For the Black Watch in particular this battle was disasterous. They saw the highest individual loss out of all the regiments fighting, with 300 men, including 8 officers killed. In fact, it wouldn’t be until the First World War until the Black Watch would again witness such casualties in battle.

Death of Gustavus Adolphus at Lützen

Renowned archaeologist Dr. Tony Pollard will be hoping that the remains of soldiers from Scotland will be found buried in the German town of Lützen.
Under a modern-day supermarket in the east German town, archaeologists believe they have found the final resting place of some of the soldiers who fought in a battle during the Thirty Years’ War.

Dr. Pollard from the University of Glasgow, spent a week with other leading European archaeologists who have been carrying out a long-running investigation at the battlefield said that he has been interested in finding physical evidence of Scottish soldiers fighting out in Germany, where the majority of the Thirty Years’ War was fought.

He also commented, “[T]here has been the construction of a supermarket and car park.

“There is a possibility the graves survived because it seems they were dug deep, but there is probably little that can be done now because of the supermarket being there.

“However, hundreds of men were killed in this battle and there could be other graves. Bodies were said to have been lain side-by-side along a road and we think that we have identified the road and graves may not be too far away.”

For now the German experts are continuing their work at the battlefield, however, Dr. Pollard is intending to return to Lützen next Spring.

The Battle of Lützen was fought in the November of 1632 (either the 6th [O.S.] or the 16th [N.S.]) between the Protestant Swedish army and the Catholic Holy Roman Empire. The outcome was a definite Swedish victory, but it came at the cost of the death of the King of Sweden, Gustavus Aldophus, causing the Protestant campaign to lose direction. It was very common for Gustavus to hire German mercenaries from the Protestant states, but Scottish recruits were also common, with most originating, it is believed, from the Highlands.

The Swedish army lost roughly 6,000 men at Lützen; which included those who were seriously wounded or fled the battle. It’s believed that both armies lost around the same sort of numbers during the battle, though this can’t be claimed with 100% certainty. However, despite this, it was, strategically and tactically speaking, a clear victory for the Protestants, with the Swedish army going on to achieve the main goals of its campaign.

The wax death mask of Mary

On the 8th of February, 1587 Mary I of Scotland was executed for treason at Fotheringhay Castle in Northamptonshire. She was found guilty of conspiring against her cousin Elizabeth I of England, and so after 18 years of confinement, Mary was eventually taken to the scaffold where she was beheaded at the age of 44.

The following is an account of the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots taken by Robert Wynkfield.

“Her prayers being ended, the executioners, kneeling, desired her Grace to forgive them her death: who answered, ‘I forgive you with all my heart, for now, I hope, you shall make an end of all my troubles.’ Then they, with her two women, helping her up, began to disrobe her of her apparel: then she, laying her crucifix upon the stool, one of the executioners took from her neck the Agnus Dei, which she, laying hands off it, gave to one of her women, and told the executioner, he should be answered money for it. Then she suffered them, with her two women, to disrobe her of her chain of pomander beads and all other apparel most willingly, and with joy rather than sorrow, helped to make unready herself, putting on a pair of sleeves with her own hands which they had pulled off, and that with some haste, as if she had longed to be gone.

All this time they were pulling off her apparel, she never changed her countenance, but with smiling cheer she uttered these words,’that she never had such grooms to make her unready, and that she never put off her clothes before such a company.’

Mary being led to the scaffold

Then she, being stripped of all her apparel saving her petticoat and kirtle, her two women beholding her made great lamentation, and crying and crossing themselves prayed in Latin. She, turning herself to them, embracing them, said these words in French, ‘Ne crie vous, j’ay prome pour vous‘, and so crossing and kissing them, bad them pray for her and rejoice and not weep, for that now they should see an end of all their mistress’s troubles.

Then she, with a smiling countenance, turning to her men servants, as Melvin and the rest, standing upon a bench nigh the scaffold, who sometime weeping, sometime crying out aloud, and continually crossing themselves, prayed in Latin, crossing them with her hand bade them farewell, and wishing them to pray for her even until the last hour.

This done, one of the women have a Corpus Christi cloth lapped up three-corner-ways, kissing it, put it over the Queen of Scots’ face, and pinned it fast to the caule of her head. Then the two women departed from her, and she kneeling down upon the cushion most resolutely, and without any token or fear of death, she spake aloud this Psalm in Latin, In Te Domine confido, non confundar in eternam, etc. Then, groping for the block, she laid down her head, putting her chin over the block with both her hands, which, holding there still, had been cut off had they not been espied. Then lying upon the block most quietly, and stretching out her arms cried, In manus tuas, Domine, etc., three or four times. Then she, lying very still upon the block, one of the executioners holding her slightly with one of his hands, she endured two strokes of the other executioner with an axe, she making very small noise or none at all, and not stirring any part of her from the place where she lay: and so the executioner cut off her head, saving one little gristle, which being cut asunder, he lift up her head to the view of all the assembly and bade God save the Queen. Then, her dress of lawn [i.e. wig] from off her head, it appeared as grey as one of threescore and ten years old, polled very short, her face in a moment being so much altered from the form she had when she was alive, as few could remember her by her dead face. Her lips stirred up and a down a quarter of an hour after her head was cut off.

The execution

Then Mr. Dean [Dr. Fletcher, Dean of Peterborough] said with a loud voice, ‘So perish all the Queen’s enemies’, and afterwards the Earl of Kent came to the dead body, and standing over it, with a loud voice said, ‘Such end of all the Queen’s and the Gospel’s enemies.’

Then one of the executioners, pulling off her garters, espied her little dog which was crept under her cloths, which could not be gotten forth by force, yet afterward would not depart from the dead corpse, but came and lay between her head and her shoulders, which being imbrued with her blood was carried away and washed, as all things else were that had any blood was either burned or washed clean, and the executioners sent away with money for their fees, not having any one thing that belonged unto her. And so, every man being commanded out of the hall, except the sheriff and his men, she was carried by them up into a great chamber lying ready for the surgeons to embalm her.”