The Haggis

   The Haggis

Suzanne Marsh

January 25^th, 2023

I remember sitting, listing to the skirl of the bagpipes, I remember making a speech to the haggis. The taste was something I doubt I will ever forget. One of the men who had prepared the haggis sat next to me, he informed of all the contents of the haggis, I think he was waiting to see if I would toss my cookies, I did not give him the satisfaction although I swallowed hard several times, especially when he told me he had used ox bung, lamb pluck (heart, lungs and liver) that did it for me. I drank most of the rest of my meal. One of the other pipers drove me home, I made it up the stairs to my bed, the fell asleep, hoping I would never have to haggis again.

16 April 1746

“Wake up Laddie, wake up are ye hungry?” I slowly opened one eye to gaze at a tall well-built Scot “I’ve mad ye dome porridge, ye wondered inta camp last night. Wake up now Laddie.” I wondered what he was staring at until I realized I was dressed in a MacLeod hunting tartan, that was made very differently than his kilt. The more I became awake and aware of my surroundings the more I had no idea where I was. I blamed the haggis for this crazy dream I was having. I decided to play along, at least until I determined where I was and why I was here. The big Scot, his name Randall Mac Kenzie, was a true Scot from his red hair and blue eyes to the broad sword in his large hand.

“Laddie, ye must get up, we must prepare for the battle ahead. Can ye use a broad sword?”

I gulped: “a what?”

“A broad sword Laddie, och where is your dirk? Do ye hide it somewhere other than yer sock?”

I desperately hoped I would wake up from this crazy dream, I had no idea how to hold a broad sword much less swing it accurately.

“Laddie, I also brought ye a broad axe, ye do know how to use one eh?”

I was out of my realm here, I decided to just tell the big guy the truth:

“I have no idea how to use either.”

The big Scot smiled:

“Ye will taday Laddie, ye will taday. Come along with ye, finish yer porridge and then we will

begin.”

I wanted to go back to sleep, hopefully waking up in my nice warm bed in Brooklyn, New York, and the year being 2023. I wanted to ask what day this was but decided that wasn’t the smartest thing I could ask; I was just going to have to play along with this scenario until I went back to sleep.”

I finished the thick porridge, actually it was very hearty, much better than the microwave type I used on a regular basis. I could taste just a bit of maple syrup, which made it even better. I began to look around this strange camp I found myself in. Men with long hair and beards, campfires burning. This wasn’t Brooklyn, that was for sure; the question was where was I?’ The big Scot came over to where I sat before a fire:

“Laddie are ye ready to learn how to handle the broad sword?”

“I...think...so, what do I have to do?”

The big Scot laughed:

“Laddie, ye have to pick the broad sword up, wield it above ye head, like this ye see?”

I saw, I gulped and attempted to pick the damn thing up, it was heavy. I am six foot, a hundred and eighty pounds. I should have been able to at least pick it up. I staggered as I attempt to swing it as the big Scot had showed. He worked with me for a while as the red circle of sun rose in the east.

My mind told me I was possibly in Scotland, but the time period was definitely several centuries earlier. The big Scot returned, informing me I should change into a different tartan since the MacLeod’s were not in favor of the “Bonnie Prince” ruling Scotland. I studied history but could not remember who the “Bonnie Prince” was.

Suddenly I had a feeling in the pit my stomach, was I somehow in Scotland where the Battle of Culloden took place.

I asked the big Scot what the date was, his reply:

“Laddie, it is the sixteenth day of April in the year of our Lord 1746.”

He handed me a large piece of plaid material:

“Best ye be puttin this on now, this is my tartan the MacDonald.”

He stared at me in my under ware, I stared at the massive plaid on the ground, attempting to figure out how to put the thing on and around me. I must have had a really dumb look on my face. He showed me how to make pleats then put the kilt on. My lacy shirt was exchanged for a woolsy shirt.

Shouts began to fill the air, the army of the Duke of Cumberland had been located, his banners waving in the highland wind. I realized now I was in Culloden, the battle would commence around one o’clock in afternoon. My knees felt as if I were a man made of rubber. The thought of fighting a battle that had been fought and lost by the Scots seemed rather senseless to me. I picked up the broad sword, hoping I would not disgrace myself in battle.

A dark-haired young man arrived on the field, murmurs could be heard:

“Bonnie Prince Charlie is about to march with us into battle, raise the banners.”

The banners of the clans were raised as we moved toward the English. Loud shouts were heard, the skril of the pipes began. We moved out, by now I could only hope I would awake in my nice warm bed, instead I found myself on the cold ground of Culloden; marching into a battle I still to this day do not understand.

Something hit me in the head, and I remember falling, when I came to, I found myself in my nice warm bed, a lump on my head, and a broad sword in my hand.