| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| SgtMunro |
Posted - February 14 2004 : 09:17:05 AM
“A Place Of Honorable Men” by Sgt. Munro
Fort Pitt, The Ohio Country
19 December 1763 / 0240 Hours
Dreams are strange things indeed. Some claim that it is nothing more than the mind needing to release anxieties, passions, anger, etc. Others claim that the time of sleep opens the veil to the other world, where one can see the possibilities of a path not chosen, to speak with departed friends and relatives, or to glimpse into the distant future or past.
For Sergeant Duncan Munro, dreams are all of these things; sometimes his dreams are pleasant ones, of him and his lovely Eliza. Other times they are frightening repetitions of battles long ago fought; places like Fontenoy, Ticonderoga, Havana and more recently Bushy Run, are played out in his mind where even the smells seem all too real. Tonight his dreams are of a kind, rarely experienced by him.
The room he is inside is not much different than the great hall of Foulis Castle, the ancestral home of Clan Munro, it could be the great hall of any number of ancient seats of clan government. Long common tables occupy sections of the hall, where pitchers of ale, mead, beer and aqua vitale are placed and refilled by serving girls. There are many men here, highlanders all, some he thinks he recognizes from portraits. Men like William Wallace, Robert The Bruce and Rob Roy MacGregor; it is all very overwhelming.
While he is trying to make sense of it all, telling himself it is only a dream; he hears a familiar voice behind him. “Duncan, will ye ‘ave a drink with me.” Turning to see it is his uncle, Lieutenant Colonel Sir Robert Munro who also has his arm around another man. “There is someone here who has been waiting a long time to see you again.”
“Of course uncle, it has been too long.” As he accepts a pint of mead, “Who is this?”
“This, Duncan, is your father Angus Munro.” Duncan was speechless; his mother died during childbirth and his father, who was a soldier in the Black Watch, was killed by brigands in 1729. His paternal uncle, never knowing any other family, raised him.
“Hello son” The man stretched his arm out to great the younger Munro, “I understand if you are a wee bit suspicious.”
“Father, it is not that, it is…” Fumbling for words to greet a father he had never known, “I just…”
“It is alright lad, have a drink and just let me enjoy seeing you again.” Turning to Sir Robert, Private Angus Munro continued, “Would ye look at him Robbie, my son a sergeant of Highland Solders, and Royal Highlanders at that! I am so very proud.”
“Father, Uncle Robert, what is this place?” Duncan said, still trying to tell himself that it is all a dream.
“Duncan, I cannot quite give it a name” Said Angus who then, while looking over Duncan’s shoulder, continued with, “Look lad, here comes someone else who wants to see you.”
“Sergeant Munro” Said an all too familiar voice behind him.
Turning to look, Duncan saw that it was Private MacLeod, “Andrew! Lad, I thought I’d never see you… alive?”
“Not quite, sergeant” MacLeod replied, “I still died on that wooded hillside, during a cold November morning, far from home.”
“Andrew, God I am sorry.” Duncan said, choking up.
“You do not have to be sorry sergeant.” Said MacLeod, smiling “I died fighting alongside of my friends, my family away from home. All that is truly important, is that I did not die alone, that my friends were with me during my passage to this place.”
“The lad is right, Duncan” Sir Robert said, “This is not a place to be sorry, this is a place of honorable men who had fought the good fight and sacrificed for their brethren.” He continued, “Look over there Duncan, do you see that man speaking to the well dressed gentleman? Do you know who he is? He is your great-great grandfather Hector Munro and he is having a drink with his old commander, the Marquis of Montrose.”
“He fought as a Royalist, in the civil wars, didn’t he?” Duncan q |
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