THIS week I went on a figurative journey from the north of India, to an exhibition in Glasgow’s Bellahouston Park, and ended up in a cosy, comfortable bar on Glasgow’s Gallowgate - and all because of a woman.

That woman was Jessie Brown, a simple soldier’s wife who eventually became the subject of numerous paintings and pottery keepsakes, and who ended her life, some say, running a bar on the Gallowgate where she was known as Hielan Jessie.

It all started with an unusual black-and-white photograph. It was a Herald Archive picture from 1938 when the great Empire Exhibition at Bellahouston Park in Glasgow held a re-enactment of the Relief of Lucknow. What was curious about the picture was that the soldiers were in kilts, but also wore kepis with the cloth extension at the back to keep the sun off your neck. So not normal headgear for soldiers in Scotland then.

The Relief of Lucknow is one of those stories from the days of the British Raj when history was more clear-cut with the British Empire always in the right.

It dates back to the Indian Mutiny of 1857 - brought about it is popularly believed, because the ammunition of new Enfield rifles was kept in beef and pork fat which enraged the religious sensibilities of both Hindu and Muslim soldiers who rebelled.

The British Residency in Lucknow, now an eerie but preserved ruin in that bustling Indian city, was put under a murderous siege, and almost on the point of starvation, the soldiers and families in the Residency were saved by a relief column of mainly Scottish soldiers.

A popular publication of the day told a highly coloured tale of Jessie Brown, the wife of a slain soldier at the Residency, suddenly hearing the pipes of the relief some miles away and urging the defenders to hang on.

It was an oft-told tale. As Herald reader Mary Clark told me: “Any readers of my years - late seventies - who were taught in even the smallest Scottish school will remember the picture of Jessie Brown standing on the ramparts amid the dead and wounded of Lucknow shouting, ‘Can ye no’ hear them? It’s the Highlanders! The Campbells are coming!’

“When Lucknow was relieved has faded into the mists of time, but Jessie and, ‘The pipes, the pipes!’ will be with me for ever. My blood stirs yet at the memory.”

And then I heard from Billy Gold, owner of the Hielan Jessie bar on Gallowgate, named after our Lucknow heroine. I had never thought about it before, but the names Barrack Street and Armour Street leading off the Gallowgate tells of a military past largely forgotten.

The first barracks built in Glasgow were put there in 1795 and could accommodate up to 1000 men. It seems the authorities liked having troops on hand in Glasgow in case the locals got a bit unruly.

It is claimed though that there were too many women of questionable morals in the Gallowgate area as well as vile drinking dens selling an almost poisonous form of whisky, and it was decided less than a hundred years later to move the barracks to new quarters on Maryhill Road.

The site became a railway goods depot, then derelict, and is now the site of a Morrison’s supermarket.

Gallowgate itself, no longer a haven for women of easy virtue, has though been a street known for its pubs. Writer John Gorevan who researched the history, says: “There were 86 pubs from Glasgow Cross to Parkhead Cross which meant there were more pubs on this stretch of road than any other in the city, and possibly the entire country.”

There are not so many now of course, and as I say, one of the most welcoming now is the Hielan Jessie, across from the old barracks site. The building itself is one of the oldest in the area, and used to be the Regal Bar before Billy’s dad took it over, extended it and renamed it.

The story of Jessie’s involvement in Lucknow have varied sometimes, either she heard the pipes were coming or merely dreamt it.

In fact there was a heated debate as to whether it was just a myth but The Spectator magazine no less, in 1890, came out with a detailed story backing the fact the Jessie Brown really did hear the pipes of the relief column.

Billy at the Hielan Jessie pub tells me: “After Lucknow, Jessie became a Victorian heroine and was immortalised by famous artists. But her husband Corporal Brown, was killed in the siege, so although she returned to the barracks as a heroine, she was eventually told, ‘You’ll need to move out as your man’s deid’.”

The story goes that she then ran her own bar on the Gallowgate where she proved a popular character with the soldiers.

Mary Clark’s tale of hearing about Jessie at school also rang a bell with Billy who told me: “In my class at Cumbernauld High in the early seventies was a fellow pupil called Jessie Brown who our history teacher gave a big riddy by asking her to stand in front of the class while he recounted the story of Jessie’s courage.”

Another thought on the Gallowgate, which runs east from Glasgow Cross. I told Billy I had never been in his pub before. He mused: “It’s like there is an invisible glass wall at Glasgow Cross. Folk from the west end will go to the Merchant City but they think twice about crossing the High Street and the Saltmarket over to the Gallowgate.”

Indeed there is much to like about the area other than the Barrowlands Ballroom. St Luke’s is a magnificent converted church off the Gallowgate putting on music events, and serving food and drink in the most stylish of surroundings. Perhaps its time folk in Glasgow thought about old Jessie, and marched on the Gallowgate.