The study had been swept clean, and there were lit candles everywhere.

"This is where you wanted to make love? You're a spooky chick, you know that."

She kissed me, then led me to the fireplace. "There'll be plenty o' time for lovemakin', Zachary Wallace. First, there's some family business tae attend tae."

The back wall of the fireplace pivoted quietly upon its recently oiled hinges, revealing the dumbwaiter.

"Brandy—"

"Go on. I'll be here when ye're through."

I looked at her, uneasy, then stepped onto the platform and lowered myself down the dark shaft.

* * *

It wasn't until I reached bottom that I could see the torches. They'd been fixed to the cavern walls, illuminating a corridor that led away from the aquifer's access tunnel, down a different section of the cave.

I followed the lights, then rounded a corner and entered a torch- lit chamber.

There were two dozen Templar present, maybe more, all cloaked in Black hoods and tunics. In silence, they encircled me, and then the leader stepped forward, brandishing his gold sword.

"Zachary Adam Wallace," Alban MacDonald said, his voice muffled behind his hood, "are ye here of your own free will?"

"I am."

"Wi' this blood oath, dae ye swear allegiance tae the Order o' the Knight?"

"I do."

"Brethren o' the Templar, are there any objections tae acceptin' this novice intae the Order?"

None responded.

Reaching out, he took my right hand, then opened my flesh with a brush of his blade.

Alban signaled me to kneel, then recited Psalm 133. "Arise, Sir Zachary, for as o' this day an' forever mair, ye are a Templar Knight. Sir Angus?"

My father stepped forward, his face remaining cloaked. From his tunic he removed a silver casket, set on a braided gold chain. Holding it up to the light, he translated the Latin inscription aloud.

"The Bruce is Scotland, an' Scotland the Bruce. Protect the Braveheart, for freedom's sake… the coven o' the Black Knights made."

Angus placed the casket's necklace around my neck, and then I followed the procession to a small alcove.

Alban pressed on a section of rock, which pivoted, revealing a two-by-three-foot hiding place, its walls made of new brick and mortar, lined in silk.

Removing the Braveheart from around my neck, I placed it in its new resting place.

Alban muttered a prayer in Latin, then sealed the camouflaged coffin.

And then, one by one, the Black Knights revealed themselves to me as they shook my still-bleeding hand.

There was Calum Forest and Sheriff Holmstrom, and old man Stewart, my history teacher in Grammar School. True gave me a hearty bear-hug, and I was shocked to see Judge Hannam, who said, "Welcome hame, lad. Now dae us both a favor an' keep yer auld man oot o' my courtroom."