I had feared this 250th anniversary of the Highlands' saddest tragedy might have degenerated in sad sequel to the fairytale musical Brigadoon. It did not. Indeed as dusk fell and some sprays of flowers around the rugged cairn began to wilt, the atmosphere chilled...as if 1,200 poor but loyal clansmen who had met such as horrific agonising end, wanted the world to know how they had died, out on that moor, with its forelorn banners fluttering.

Perhaps this was what this 250th anniversary was all about - not the Sir Walter Scott romantic version and the hero leader image. Not the image presented, albeit for sound commercial reasons, in that famous picure of clan chiefs paying homage to the gallant Prince Charles, the picture that graces the tartan lids of tins of shortbread; or the fetching portraits of the handsome young man who appears on sundry tourist goodies.

A Clansman lays flowers at the 'Well of the Dead'

I stop in this sad graveyard at The Well of the Dead, the emotive axis of the whole battlefield in my opinion, and listen.

Some say this Prince Charles was no chivalrous young knight fighting for a throne harshly torn from his family's grasp by evil men.That he was a treacherous opportunist who learned from his equally devious father how to gain himself an army by playing on religious beliefs and the misguided loyalty of clan chiefs and their dutiful clansmen.That what happened bears out the assertion he shamefully abused their trust, finallly abandoning them to face terrible retribution without lifting a finger to try to lessen their punishments for fear of sullying his own name at the French Court.

Like everything, it all depends on whose voices you listen to. I was listening to their voices. And they were telling me of the eleven months of devotion to their Prince, and the great sacrifice at Culloden which demanded they keep him secure for the further five months until he could make good his escape.to the safety of France.

Given his unenviable position, hunted high and low in the mountains and glens with a £30,000 price tag on his head, he had wanted to escape as quickly as possible after the rout at Culloden. After enduring incredible hardship, eventually he slipped away aboard a French ship before the hunt for him closed in.

He left a farewell letter to the clan chiefs and the instructions it was not to be read until he was afloat and on his way to France.His reluctance to be around when the chiefs read the letter is understandable.

The Prince declares:"When I came to this country, it was my only view to do all in my power for your good and safety. This I will always do as long as life is within me. But alas, I see with grief, I can at present do little for you on this side of the water, for the one thing that can now be done is for you to defend yourselves till the French assist you and if not to be able to make better terms.

"To effectuate this, the only way is to assemble in a body as soon as possible and then to take measures for the best, which you that know the country, are only judges of.

"This makes me being of little use here, whereas, by my going into France, instantly, however dangerous it be, I will certainly engage the French Court either to assist us effectively and powerfully, or at least to procure you such terms as you would not obtain otherwise.."

Sadly, as it turned out, Prince Charles was unable to do anything and history records the sad price paid by the people of the Highlands.

A cold shiver runs down my back as I gather myself to go. The voices subside into barely audible whispers. Will we even hear them in another 250 years?...I wonder.

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_{Culloden - April 16th 1746
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