This is a story about a sword in a lake, but not the sword of King Arthur, and not the lake of Avalon. This sword lies in the depths of Loch a’Chlaidheimh, or The Loch of the Sword in Rannoch.

There were two clans that resided on Rannoch Moor: the Camerons, and the Rannochs. Frequently, these clans would clash over the ownership of Beinn a’bhric, a valuable grazing ground. Year in, and year out, the two clans would come to loggerheads over who owned the land and whose livestock had the right to graze there. Year in, and year out, no solution was reached, and the issue only increased the rift between the two factions with each passing season. 

Eventually, the two parties decided that enough was enough, and it was time to, at last, put an end to the conflict. So it was that Ewen Cameron of Lochiel and the Earl of Atholl decided to meet and they would not part until the boundaries of their lands were decided once and for all. In order to avoid potential violence, the meeting was to be arranged under specific conditions: each man would venture alone, with only one piper for company. 

So Cameron set off, piper at his back playing a merry tune, setting a positive mood for what he hoped would be a productive meeting. As he travelled through Rannoch Moor, Cameron thought deeply about the confrontation at hand, concocting an iron-clad argument that might win him the grazing grounds. So deep in thought he was, that he hadn’t noticed striding straight onto the land of an infamous wise woman who lived upon the moor, known as The Blue-Eyed One. 

‘You are going to meet the Earl of Atholl without any men?’ she asked, askance.

‘Aye, lady, I am,’ said Cameron. ‘Those were the terms of our agreement.’ 

The Blue-Eyed One shook her head ‘Do not meet the Earl alone, man. Take sixty five of your best men, and hide them among the heather, ready to be called, should you need them.’

Cameron was swayed by the old woman’s words, as she was known for her wisdom and sight. So, Cameron did as she had suggested, and called his sixty five best men to his side, and ordered them to conceal themselves in the heather, and to be ready should the Earl of Atholl look to turn violent. When the sun reached its zenith, the two proud leaders approached each other on the seemingly empty moor. 

The discussions opened with the easy exchange of pleasantries, and progressed swiftly to the matter at hand. Where at first it appeared the pair would remain cordial, the exchange heated as the boundary was debated, working up to an inferno, until the men were shouting and drawing their swords upon the other. It was then, that the Earl of Atholl whistled, and from the moor behind him sprung fifty soldiers, armed and ready to defend their master. 

‘These are the Atholl sheep coming to eat the Lochaber grass!’ the Earl of Atholl cried. 

And so, Cameron, grateful for the words of the Blue-Eyed One, whistled, and his own men sprung from the heather. ‘Here are the Lochaber hounds going to eat the flesh of the Atholl sheep!’ he responded. 

The Earl of Atholl sized up Cameron’s forces, but he could only admit that Cameron’s hounds outnumbered his sheep, and reluctantly, he sheaved his sword and called his men down. He bent his head, renounced the contested lands, and, as a signifier of the deal struck and the peace that would come from it, he hurled his blade into the loch. 

There, the sword remained. That was until 1812 during a long, dry summer, when a herd-boy was working that same old disputed land. The loch had drained with the drought, unveiling the sword cradled in its peaty belly. For a time, the sword was removed and ogled by the locals, until a blue eyed woman who lived nearby told them a tale of a conflict solved by the throwing of a sword, and so it was decided the sword should be returned to the Loch of the Sword.

Seton Gordon described the moment the sword was thrown once more into the depths: ‘For an instant as it sped, its trusty blade turned to glowing bronze in the sunlight, then, like Excalibur, it sank forever from sight!’

Adapted from ‘Tales of Rannoch’ by A.D. Cunningham, Bagton Clans, & GeoTourist