The targe

 

The targe

                                               Image source

The targe was a circular shield used in battle by Scottish Highlanders. It was the main means of defence in battle until it was banned after the Battle of Culloden in 1746.Frequently, the central boss held a removable steel spike, which proved to be a lethal weapon at close quarters.

Flora MacCleod knew all this because she had grown up knowing the history of her clan. The targe in the photograph had been in her family’s possession for generations and there was now no way of proving its provenance as a MacLeod shield, though everyone believed it to be so.

At the centre of the boss was a long rope of hair. As a child, Flora had been allowed to handle it occasionally and had always marvelled at its silky softness. She was a romantic girl and imagined it to have come from a well-loved horse, though it was too fine to have come from a Highland pony.

On her parents’ death, Flora inherited the targe. It had been wrapped in MacLeod tartan, stored in the attic, and looked dusty and neglected when she uncovered it. Reverentially she cleaned it, turning it over in her hands and admiring the workmanship that had gone into its creation. The deerskin on the back was worn but still intact. The leather on the face had been skilfully tooled and then strengthened and decorated with bras studs. She wondered if there had ever been a spike on the boss. Now that it belonged to her, she could investigate it thoroughly.

Flora twisted the screw that secured the cord to the brass centre plate. She wondered if there might be some information under the plate to tell her a little more about this lovely thing. She hoped for a maker’s mark or a receipt.

It was hard to release the cord from its fastening and Flora’s fingers were sore by the time she managed to free it. Her breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed a piece of paper tucked inside the boss. As she carefully teased it out, she wondered if she were the first person to see this since the targe had last been used in battle.

Excitedly, she unfolded the paper but what she read made her grow pale with horror. Feverishly, she wrapped the targe in the tartan and resolved to dispose of it. She considered selling it but supposed that, even with its history, few collectors would wish to buy a shield displaying an ornamental human scalp.

            Targe presented by the Duke of Perth to Charles Edward Stuart,                                     'Bonnie Prince Charlie'
                                                Image copurtesy Wikimedia Commons

Magpie #58 Savagery

Tess Kincaid hosts this meme. Thank you, Tess J Each week she posts a photograph from her archive to act as a visual prompt and followers respond as they see fit. Some versify, 

some don’t. Click here to see entries and perhaps join in.

Image courtesy Tess Kincaid

The shield or targe so beloved of the Scots was a fearsome weapon of war. A weapon? How can a shield be a weapon?’ Frequently the central boss held a removable steel spike – a lethal weapon indeed at close quarters.

Flora knew all this, for she was a MacLeod, steeped in the history of her clan. The targe her family owned may not have been a MacLeod shield – she was not sure – but it had been in her family for generations. At the centre of it was a long rope of hair. On the rare occasions on which she had been allowed to handle it in her childhood she had marvelled at its softness. A romantic child, she had imagined it to have come from a well-loved horse, though it seemed too silky to have been taken from a Highland pony.

On her parents’ death Flora inherited the targe. It had been wrapped in MacLeod tartan and stored in the attic, but looked dusty and neglected when she uncovered it.  She cleaned it reverentially, turning it over in her hands, admiring the workmanship that had gone into its creation. The deerskin on the back was worn but still intact. Flora imagined her forebears striding into battle with targe and dirk in one hand and sword in the other. The leather on the face had been skilfully tooled and then strengthened and decorated with brass studs. She wondered if there had ever been a spike on the boss. Now it was hers she could investigate it thoroughly.

Flora twisted the screw that secured the cord to the brass centre plate. She knew she would not find a spike but wondered if there might be some information, a note perhaps, to tell her a little more about this lovely thing. She hoped for a maker’s mark, or a receipt. It was hard to release the cord from its fastening and Flora’s fingers were sore by the time she managed it. She caught her breath as she glimpsed a piece of paper tucked inside the boss. As she carefully teased it out she wondered if she were the first person to see this since the targe had last been used in battle.

What Flora read made her sick with horror. She wrapped the targe in the tartan and resolved to dispose of it. She considered selling it but supposed that, even with its provenance, few collectors would wish to buy a shield with an ornamental scalp.