Young Scots Writer o the Year 2024: Winning story

Content warning: contains mentions of death

None Shall Rest Easy

Ah’m lookin at the bodies layin roon me; some groanin in agony, ithers silent. As ah see ma fellae clan members layin deid on the battlefield, ah ken this isnae a dream. Ma faun clansmen piled hie as they fell on each ither wi the shots ringin oot. On ma left, ah see ma best pal frae childhood lyin still wi ’alf o his heid shot aff. In front o me, ah can see the reidcoats pushin forward, leavin the remainin Scots nae chance tae fire ana shots. Behind me, mair screams frae the fleein Jacobite army. We a’ thocht this would be the best thin’ for oor land. Culloden was where we met ’em and where we thocht we would win. Though ah lie here, shot and bleedin oot, still, ah can hear the pipes soundin loud wi the spirit o Scotland. Wi ma breaths fadin awa, ma mind brings me hame tae ma wife and the weans as ah recall auld tales.

Sittin there wi ma family, a’ o us roon the dyin fire. “Gie us mair stories da!” The weans shouted whene’er ah finished ane story and on tae the next yin until ah finished ’em a’. When ma stories o the auld battles had run oot, ah led on tae the next an the weans looked up wi idolisin eyes. Ah stertit aff wi Bonnie Prince Charlie an ah praised ’im for gatherin the clans, those that hadnae been tak’n by the government, tae fecht for the Jacobite army. We a’ thocht it would be a great help tae Scotland if we reformed the Scottish monarchy. That was the Jacobite’s goal an so we followed. No withoot oor doubts; the Prince was jist a young lad. Ah promised ah’d be back frae this yin wi a new story tae tell ’em before sendin ’em aff tae bed.

But the pipes, the pipes are soundin quieter noo.

That morning, as ma wife helped me intae ma kilt, ah remember seein the fear in her eyes. The fear that ah wouldnae come back. Deep doon inside, ah’d always been afeart o ana battle and so hud she. For me, it was jist like hiedin aff tae anither, but, this time, ah could see that she had a bigger fear than e’er afore that ah may ne’er come back. So, in oor final moments o closeness, ah gae her a kiss on the forehied afore sayin goodbye. After sayin ma fareweel tae a’body, ah saddled up on ma horse and rode aff tae meet ma fellae clan members.

An the pipes, the pipes are quieter still.

When we met alangside o Loch Ness, it was late in the evenin an ma pals an ah had decided tae camp there for the nicht. We sat roon the fire tae keep us warm at the end o winter an we sang auld songs tae pass the time. Songs ‘boot soldiers aff tae war an missin hame an o that bonnie lass they left there. When the nicht came hangin o’er oor shoothers, we began tae reminisce ’boot oor childhoods back afore we kent ’boot ana o this fechtin goin on.

As wee toddlers, we would run roon the fields wi’oot ana thocht o battle. Though, as we grew, oor blurred vision o the world shairpend an we realised whit was happenin an we realised that we would turn oot jist like oor faithers an their faithers. Naturally we would pick up wooden swords an play on the hillside. We could only laugh noo at the time ah tripped on a stane an fell intae the heather but it wis sair when it happened.

We kent we had become oor faithers jist as they had become theirs. We were gonna fecht for oor wean’s freedom an oor gran’wean’s freedom. We agreed that the fechtin would go on for nae langer an we would win.

An the pipes, the pipes are quieter still.

After a lang day’s travel, we were fair puggled when we a’ arrived tae the Jacobite camp at Culloden. This was the largest army camp we had seen an it made us even mair impressed wi Bonnie Prince Charlie for how mony warriors he had brought intae this. We were told ’boot a plan tae raid the government’s base in Nairn in the early hoors o the morning. Tae catch up on sleep, we found an officer who agreed tae wake us when the time comes.

The dreams came again tae haunt me. Dreams o a battlefield o’errun by enemies; destruction a’ roon me; confusion in the faces o those ah looked up tae. Ah tried tae shake ’em awa, as ah’d done every ither time. Ah awoke as the officer was on his way o’er tae see us;

“Woke afore the rest o ’em ah see. Tak yer sword wi ye and we’ll git ye a’ kitted oot.”

Ah picked up ma sword tae follae alang an soon we set aff in an attempt tae catch the government’s troops affgaurd. After a wee while o walkin’, the lack o sleep began tae settle in an luckily somebody must’ve realised that we’d set aff tae late. Word had passed roon that we werenae gan tae mak it in time afore the sun began tae rise. So the attack was called aff an we turned roon but the word ne’er passed on tae some battalions an they kept goin. Ah was told in the morning, they realised almost tae late afore they also turned back tae Culloden. We met an even mair puggled group o soldiers than us when they arrived back that morning.

An the pipes, the pipes are quieter still.

Noo ah’m ’ere again, standin in this very field surrounded by folk ah grew up wi and some ah hadnae seen in ma life. We were a’ here tae follae Bonnie Prince Charlie an tak back the Scottish monarchy. That was whit we thocht would happen but as we saw the government forces marchin alang we began tae doubt that it would. The marchin kept on ‘til we could only hear it. This wasnae the best o events that could’ve happened. However, still puggled frae the nicht afore we stood oor grun an waited for the sign tae charge against the wall o reid. The cannons stertit an the order was given, the deafenin sounds o gunfire an swords clashin was a’ tae be heard for miles. Sure enough the rifle smoke came an ah saw the bullet refleck aff ma sword.

An the pipes, the pipes have changed their song.

Noo, ah see ma bonnie lass, sittin’ by the fire wi her lang reid hair an’ bricht smile, the weans runnin roon whilst they dinnae ken whit war is. Whit will become o ’em? That is a’ ah can think o, as the reidcoats draw nearer, the image stark in ma mind as I see her now, greetin at the door as the letter comes through. Nae sowl will rest easy in Scotland the nicht an for mony more nichts tae come.

An the pipes, ah can hear ’em nae mair.