Edward Langshanks wis mairchin north, an a fecht wis inevitable. It wis ane the Scots warna likely tae win. Wallace at this stage makkit ae decision that wad gie his force an advantage. Kennin that the giant English airmy wad hae need o great stores o supplies, he draggit them deeper intae Scotland. Mair nor thon, he pit mony ferms tae the torch. Wallace, guairdian o the Scots fowk, set the fertile ferms o the Lothians ablaze. He wantit tae stairve England’s airmy.

The ploy wisnae faur awa fae wirkin.

Wallace cam fae nae place, gaithert thegither thoosands o common fowk in Scotland wi some orra glamour o personality or skeel, an wi the grumly, switherin support o the Scottish nobility, he gied the English ane o the great skelpins at Stirlin Brig. But there’s sae mony haivers spake aroond Wallace that ye maun feel that MacDiarmid micht hae been scrievin as weel aboot Wallace as Burns wi the lines, ‘Mair nonsense has been uttered in his name / Than in ony’s barrin’ liberty and Christ.’

The Pechts war warriors, fermers an airtists that ruled ower maist o Scotland throu the first millenia AD. They war the distinct fowk that emerged whan aa the hunners o wee clans in verra early Derk Age Scotland gaithert thegither. They spreid ae appearently homogenous cultur oot fae their hertlaunds in the saxt century, an suin Pechtland raxed ower maist o Scotland. Their name an the ends o their muckle launds ar commemoratit in the Pentland Hills, sooth o Embra, an the Pentland Firth aff John O’ Groats, wi Pent bein anither name for Pecht. There’s a guid amoont o haivers spak aboot the Pechts, an little truith. Lat’s here ging on a wee journey throu the story o the Pechts an sort oot whit’s kent fae whit’s keech.