The Blood-Stained Romance of Hugh MacKay and the Morrison Widow
Highland history is often told through sweeping epics of clan warfare, royal decrees, and feudal entanglements. But tucked between the lines of ancient documents and oral tradition are the haunting human stories—raw, personal, and sometimes horrifying. One such story, part folklore and part fact, revolves around Huistean Dubh na Tuagh, known as Black Hugh of the Battle Axe, a powerful figure in 16th-century Sutherland, and a woman caught between clan loyalty and the deadly ambitions of a Highland chief.
This is the story of how a widow, a murdered husband, and a birthmark became the foundation of a clan dynasty.
The Widow of Oldshore: Beauty, Loyalty, and Misfortune
The story begins in Oldshore, a remote stretch of the Highland west coast near Kinlochbervie. At the time, this land belonged to the Morrison clan, descendants of Huistean MacThormaid, a Skye trader who married into ecclesiastical privilege and received vast church lands from the Bishop of Caithness. The Morrisons, hardy and independent, were longstanding residents of this rocky coastal territory.
Among them was the Morrison chief and his wife, a woman described in the oral tradition as both beautiful and high-minded. One day, while Black Hugh MacKay was encamped on a hunting expedition near Loch an Tigh Sheilg, the widow arrived with the customary gift of butter, cheese, and bread—a respectful offering to the local power.
Hugh was instantly captivated. In the remote solitude of the Highland glen, far from courts and politics, the chief became a man consumed by lust and infatuation. He begged her to stay. She refused firmly, declaring her loyalty to her husband, the Morrison chieftain.
Murder in the Glen: “We Merely Brought His Head”
The tale takes a gruesome turn. Furious or obsessed—perhaps both—Hugh sent a party of his men to fetch the Morrison chief.
They returned with his head.
According to chilling verses preserved in oral tradition, they declared:
We found him in his bed;
We left him in his bed;
We did not think of rousing him,
We merely brought his head.
So here we brought his head
To show that he is dead:
The lady need not mourn for him,
For now she's free to wed.
The violence was wrapped in cruel poetry, as if verse might soften the blow of murder. The widow, devastated and terrified, remained in Hugh's camp—not out of desire, but fear.
Later, she gave birth to a son. The child bore a distinctive birthmark on his forehead, which became both symbol and stigma. People said it was the blood of his true father—the slain Morrison chief—marked upon him. He became known as Domhnull Ballach, or Spotted Donald.
Fact or Fiction? Untangling the Historical Web
How much of this story is fact, and how much Highland legend?
Historians caution that many such tales were shaped, embellished, or fabricated to serve the reputational interests of clans. In this case, there’s compelling evidence that Donald Ballach did exist and that he became an important figure—the progenitor of the MacKays of Scourie.
But written records also tell a different story: that Huistean Dubh MacKay married his cousin Helen, daughter of Hugh MacLeod of Assynt, and that Donald was their legitimate son. If that is so, where does the tale of the murdered Morrison fit in?
It’s possible that the Morrison widow, land charters, and MacKay ambitions were part of a broader Highland power struggle—one where marriage, murder, and manipulation were interchangeable tools. The romanticized version of the story may reflect a cover-up or an allegorical tale meant to shame or elevate rival clans.
In any case, the Morrisons disappeared from power. Their lands were absorbed by Hugh MacKay, either through bloodshed, legal cunning, or marriage—or perhaps all three. Donald Ballach, regardless of his birth, went on to rule Scourie and carry on the MacKay legacy in the region.
Legacy of a Birthmark: Morality and Power in the Highlands
The tale of Hugh MacKay and the Morrison widow is more than a macabre love story. It’s a window into the moral complexity of Highland power during the clan era—when honor and brutality coexisted, and when land ownership was as often forged in romance and betrayal as it was in war or law.
It also forces a question: What does it mean to be a founder of a dynasty?
Donald Ballach was born of loss, marked by blood, and raised in a time when lineage, legitimacy, and love were tools of conquest. Whether his mother was a victim or a willing consort, whether Hugh was a villain or a clan tactician, the child they left behind went on to shape the future of a region.
And in that, Highland history repeats itself—as both epic and elegy, tangled in truth and tale.
Adapted From: MacRae, A. (1921). Kinlochbervie: Being the story and traditions of a remote Highland parish and its people. The Highland Christian Literature Society.
