My name is William MacPherson, of the Clan Forbes, only son of Ian and Katherine MacPherson.
I was born along the Spey River, in the foothills of the Grampian Mountians, in Aberdeenshire, in the 12th year of the reign of King James VI, the year of our Lord, 1590.
My father raised barley, to sell in Inverness. He would always bring home several gold and silver coins after such a trip. We were well fed and had a good roof over our heads, even in the roughest of weather.
Then, one day in mid autumn, my father set out to gather peat, to store for the winter fires and never returned. Neither his blue bonnet nor his great quinfall coat had ever been found. Many people claim that had to have run off to Edinburgh, while a few others, including my mother, believe that he may have come to harm of some kind. My mother and I hope that some day he will turn up.
After several seasons of waiting, with the land going to disuse, and less and less help coming from the MacPherson clan, my mother believed that we would be much better with her clan, the Forbes. And after a long journey, in the good season, we were welcomed to the home of Arthur Forbes, clan Chieftain, father of my mother and her brother, Alexander Forbes, a favored General on the Continent, under Adolphus Gustavus, King of Sweden, I hope to meet Alexander some day.
As the years went by, my mother and grand-sire, began to believe that I would not follow in the path of my father, and become a dirt worker. My interests lay elsewhere, I had seen several of the clansmen practicing with the bow and the sword and thought that this is what I need to do. I begged my grand-sire to teach me these thing, and he agreed, provided that I learn to read the scripture and write it as well, I did as he wished.
After years of practice, with the bow, the sword and the musket, my aged grand-sire came to me a told me that someone had stolen several of the clans cows, and that we needed them for the winter slaughter. He asked me if would join some of the clansmen to search for them, I said yes.
Three days from home we came across several men tending cattle in an open field with little provisions. One of the men with me knew one of the cows to be his. After a short conversation, one of the men who had the cattle, raised a musket, I fired mine, killing him, The rest scattered. I found out a short while later that this dead man was a Gordon, from the clan to the north of us.
We and the Gordons had been after each others blood for some 200 years, and with the Gordons being a powerful, predatory and religiously self-important lot, they would not stand for one of thereís dyeing at the hands of a 16 years old Forbes.
My grand-sire thought I should take a leave, to travel, perhaps to the Isle of Skye, where I met my wife Shannon.
I returned after several years, finding my grand-sire very ill and the clan in poor state. Soon after my grand-sire died, my mother told me that it was her fathers wish that I join the armies fighting the war on the continent, to be a good souldier and to stay clear of the Gordons. And I am doing the most possible to follow his wishes, Iím going to fight on the continent, Iím a good souldier, and I havenít seen a Gordon yet.
Itís time to report to my commander, could you tell me his name?
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