After some further consideration, Luc and Arnault agreed that Bruce's mystical enthronement should take place secretly at Dunkeld the night following-to which end, Brother Ninian had sent word that Abbot Fingon would be on his way to Scone from the Columban house on Iona, and that Abbot Henry would be contributing to the secret ceremony. Satisfied that these worthies could supply any knowledge that might otherwise be lacking, Arnault was guardedly optimistic as he and Luc set out from Balantrodoch on the road north to Scone.

They arrived at the abbey with two days to spare, to find Torquil there ahead of them and already briefed by Abbot Fingon and his fellow Columbans. Brother Fionn had accompanied the abbot, bringing the Columban number to three. That night, Arnault apprised them of the events at Burghead, and Torquil filled him in on the past month and more with the Bruce.

Bruce himself arrived the day after, in more stately procession, bringing in his train a large number of Scottish magnates and high-ranking clerics. The atmosphere hanging over the abbey was tense with expectation. Though most of those present knew nothing about the secret preparations being made by Arnault and his companions, all seemed united in the unspoken conviction that Scotland's future was about to be decided for centuries yet to come.

The morning of the twenty-fifth dawned fair. As preparation for the public ceremony of enthronement and crowning-itself always a secular affair-a solemn High Ma.s.s was held in the abbey church. Listening to the readings, focusing himself for what would come as the day unfolded, Arnault found it faintly ominous that this year's Feast of the Annunciation should fall on the Friday before Palm Sunday. Perhaps it was a suitable occasion for the formal acclamation of a king, but he could not help reflecting that a king thus hailed might well face great sufferings before coming into his kingdom. He sensed Torquil's uneasiness as well, as the two of them moved forward to receive Communion from Bishop Lamberton. Bruce, accompanied by his wife and brothers-incipient queen and princes, as soon as the crown was placed upon his head-seemed as calm as could be expected.

A brief recess followed the Ma.s.s, so that appropriate rearrangements could be made inside the church, for in the absence of the Stone, the enthronement ceremony was to take place there, rather than outside on the Moot Hill. Bringing out the regalia he had brought with him from Glasgow, Bishop Wishart produced episcopal robes appropriate for a king, a circlet of gold, hastily contrived, and most importantly, a royal banner of the arms of Scotland, which had belonged to Alexander III. In place of the absent Stone of Destiny was set a regal chair, on a dais at the upper end of the nave, surmounted by rich draperies of brocade and cloth-of-gold.

Upon completion of these preparations, the only person not yet arrived for the ceremony was the Countess of Buchan. A staunch supporter of the Scottish cause, Countess Isabel had claimed the ceremonial role of her brother, the Earl of Fife, whose hereditary privilege it was to set the crown on the new monarch's head-an infant when John Balliol was crowned, and now a captive hostage of Edward.

But when, after an hour's further delay, she still had not arrived, it was decided not to wait any longer.

"Further delay would not be wise," Bishop Lamberton noted with misgiving. "Many of us have come at grave risk to life and office. There will be repercussions enough, when Edward learns what is being done here. The ceremony must go forward without her."

Lamberton himself presided over the ceremony, a.s.sisted by Bishop Wishart of Glasgow and Bishop David Murray of Moray. As host, Abbot Henry of Scone was likewise prominent in the order of ceremony, together with his colleague, the Abbot of Inchaffray.

Among the n.o.blemen present were four great earls: John of Atholl, Malcolm of Lennox, Alan of Menteith, and Donald of Mar. Bruce's four brothers were also in attendance, as were his wife, Elizabeth, his nephew Thomas Randolph, and his close friend Christopher Seton, who so recently had saved his life at Dumfries.

Following the inaugural addresses, Bruce was seated on the royal chair and duly invested with the regalia that Bishop Wishart had provided: the robes, his own sword, the banner of his Canmore ancestors, a white wand in lieu of a scepter, and a golden circlet of kingship. For those who had been present at the enthronement of John Balliol, fourteen years before, comparisons were inevitable-though superficial, other than those drawn by Bruce's Templar champions. Though all the external trappings of tradition had been correct on that occasion, including the presence of the Stone of Destiny, Arnault, Torquil, and Luc well recalled how strongly they had felt that something vital was wanting. Now, despite so many outward changes and subst.i.tutions, at least all was right with the man himself-and tomorrow night, G.o.d willing, Bruce's kingship would be validated upon that most precious symbol of Scotland's sovereignty: the Stone of Destiny.

But for now, the crown must suffice. Following the enthronement and crowning, Bruce received the acclamation of all present, and took oaths of fealty from those who had not already sworn him allegiance.

Anxieties over the absence of Isabel, Countess of Buchan, were relieved when she arrived later in the day, having ridden one of her husband's horses at great speed. In respect for tradition, it was decided that the enthronement and crowning would be repeated on Palm Sunday, so that her family's hereditary role might be carried out. That night, while the monks of Scone Abbey hosted a banquet for the new king and their other eminent guests, those who had reason to look beyond the fleeting celebrations of the day slipped off to make sure all was in readiness for the momentous events to come.

Early the next morning, Abbot Fingon and Brothers Ninian and Fionn made ready to set out for Dunkeld in advance of the main company. To them had been entrusted the relics of two Scottish saints: the arm bone of Saint Kentigern of Strathclyde and the crozier head of Saint Fillan of Strathearn, brought to Scone by their hereditary keepers, the Dean of Glasgow and the Abbot of Inchaffray respectively. With the willing consent of these two churchmen, the three Columbans were taking the relics to Dunkeld with the intention of invoking the saints' blessing, in addition to those of Saint Columba, on behalf of the new king and his embattled kingdom. Arnault met the party at the gate to see them off.

"The plan is for the rest of us to steal away after Vespers," he told Abbot Fingon. "Relays of fresh horses have been arranged along the way. With luck, we should be with you between Compline and midnight."

"Then, G.o.d speed us both," the abbot said, inclining his silver head.

As much as possible, those expecting to make the night journey devoted the daylight hours to rest and meditation on Sat.u.r.day, in preparation for the work that lay ahead, though the new king's attention was required for a.s.sorted meetings with various supporters throughout the day. All members of the company, not excepting Bruce himself, abstained from food from the middle of the afternoon; and after Vespers, when the king announced his intention to retire early, most of his train took the opportunity to do the same. Within an hour, the abbey precincts were quiet, so that a cloaked and hooded party of six were able to set out secretly on the road north. Torquil led the way, with Abbot Henry and Bishop Lamberton flanking Bruce. Arnault and Luc provided their rear guard.

Dunkeld lay fifteen miles to the north. The little band covered the distance in haste, stopping twice along the way to change horses. The stars were burning bright in a frosty, deep black sky as the six approached the gates of the cathedral ward. A sleepy porter let them in, little mindful of the ident.i.ty of the newcomers, and after leaving their horses in the care of two servants of Bishop Crambeth, Bishop Lamberton and Abbot Henry led their charge to the rear door of Crambeth's house.

A trusted servant was waiting to admit them, and to whisk the king upstairs to bathe and exchange his riding clothes for garments more suitable to the ceremonial occasion. While he was making himself ready, Torquil standing by to take him to his destiny, the others retreated to the lamp-lit crypt beneath the cathedral, where all was in readiness for the mystical event to come.

There, before the altar of a chapel in the crypt, was set the Stone of Destiny, temporarily draped with a snow-white cloth. Before it, to the west, lay a trestle table covered with a fair linen and draped across one end with a precious cope from the cathedral treasury. At the other end was set a silver basin and ewer and a linen towel. In the center was a wand of peeled ash wood and a coronal of twined laurel leaves and rosemary.

Three wooden lamp stands were ranged to the north of the Stone. The two at either end held the holy relics of Saint Kentigern and Saint Fillan, brought earlier that day from Scone. Upon the center stand, in honor of Saint Columba's historic a.s.sociation with the Stone of Destiny, Bishop Crambeth himself had placed Dunkeld's most famous treasure, the Monymusk Reliquary-and would be joining in their work tonight, in reward for having been the Stone's guardian this past year. Sometimes carried into battle before Scottish armies, like a Celtic Ark of the Covenant, this tiny house-shaped casket, embellished in the Celtic style and hardly larger than a man's hand, contained holy relics of Saint Columba himself.

But first the chamber must be prepared for the work to come. As the others ranged themselves around the Stone- all save Torquil and the Bruce himself, who had not yet arrived-Arnault drew his sword and, acting for the Church Militant, made a solemn circuit of the room, beginning in the west, tracing a sacred circle with his blade, his Templar robes ashimmer in the lamplight. Luc bore a lighted candle behind him, Brother Ninian following to sprinkle the boundaries of the circle with holy water. They did not close the circle in the west, for that must first serve as the mystical gateway through which the king would enter the sacred precinct thus created.

The casting of the circle being accomplished, Arnault took up his post outside the western gate, sword grounded beside him, to await the arrival of the king. The three Scottish clerics stood in the east, between the altar and the Stone, Abbot Henry flanked by Bishops Lamberton and Crambeth. Luc moved to the south, where Arnault and Torquil would join him. The three Columban brothers ranged themselves between the Stone and the trestle table, Abbot Fingon nearest the end with the basin and ewer, all of them expectantly facing the west.

The king was not long in coming. Shortly before midnight, following the sound of a door closing somewhere above them, two sets of footsteps on the stairs into the crypt heralded the arrival of Torquil, the Bruce's naked sword borne before him, and then the Bruce himself, now wearing the snow-white alb of a priest-or a sacrifice. His empty scabbard hung at his side. As they came slowly down the length of the crypt, Abbot Fingon laid the towel over his arm and took up the basin and ewer, moving quietly into position just inside the gate. Arnault came to attention, raising his sword in salute, as Torquil took up station opposite him and Bruce stopped between them, facing the abbot.

Briefed while he prepared with Torquil, the king extended his hands over the silver basin as the abbot poured water over them in symbolic purification, drying his hands on the towel after the manner of priests serving Ma.s.s and then laying it back across Fingon's arm. The two exchanged bows, after which Torquil conducted him through the gate and on to stand between the table and the still-draped Stone, turning then to place the king's sword on the table before retreating to a post beside Luc.

Arnault closed the western gate with the symbolic stroke of his sword's point across the stone floor, then laid the blade along that line in reminder of the protective circle it represented. As he took his place with his brother Templars in the south, Abbot Henry pulled the covering from the Stone behind Bruce. To Abbot Fingon, as keeper of the acc.u.mulated lore and wisdom of Iona, fell the lore-speaking role of seannachie, traditional conductor of ritual inauguration in Celtic tradition, speaking from between his two Columban brethren.

"Robert Bruce, successor to the High Kings of Alba," he said. "You stand within a sacred circle, cast by a sword hallowed by service to the Light, among those prepared to bear witness as you are enthroned upon the Stone of Destiny, inaugural seat of your predecessors. Before you stand three who are sworn to the service of holy Columba; behind you stand three Scottish clerics, whose prayers shall sustain you as king. At your left hand stand three knights of G.o.d, earthly instruments of Michael of the white steed, G.o.d's own captain general. And at your right lie the relics of three sweet saints of these blessed isles.

Permit me now to bring you into their presence."

Gesturing toward the three lamp stands he stepped to Bruce's side and took his elbow, turning him to face the north, then moved forward a step, betaking himself into the symbolic presence of the three saints.

"Blessed Saint Kentigern," he declared with a reverential bow, "we, your successors, invite you to be present amongst us, as we mark the enthronement of King Robert Bruce, in keeping with tradition handed down from the days of your ministry. Grant us, we ask, the grace of your prayers and protection, that the virtues vested in the Stone of Destiny may be visited upon him, and this realm of Scotland be freed from the yoke of foreign dominion."

He next addressed himself to Saint Fillan. "Blessed Saint Fillan, shepherd of souls," he prayed, "we invite you likewise to be present in our midst. Support us in our labors, by your prayers and intercessions, that King Robert Bruce may receive the blessing and sanction of the Father of Mercies, to deliver the people of Scotland out of the hands of their enemies."

His third and last address was directed to his own patron, to whom so much was owed by so many in this chamber.

"Columba, beneficent and benign, our father in faith," he prayed, "the time foretold by you in prophecy is now at hand. The Uncrowned King has laid down his earthly life, thereby renewing the virtues of the Stone of Destiny. Bear witness now to the enthronement of his successor, Robert Bruce, and pray with us that he may receive all grace and power from the Threefold One to secure the freedom of Scotland, and in so doing lay a firm and lasting foundation for the Temple of Light."

In the pregnant hush that followed these words, the faintest breath of a wondrous perfume touched at Arnault's nostrils. Sweet and aromatic, the scent went to his head and heart like a draft of wine, lightening his spirit with intimations of joy. The others seemed to smell it, too. In the same moment, it seemed to Arnault that the lamplight pervading the chamber was growing clearer and brighter.

The immanence was centered on the three reliquaries on the north side of the dais. It brought with it a sense of living Presence-or rather, Arnault corrected himself-three separate Presences, each radiating a shimmering fragrance of sanct.i.ty. Brightest among them was the one in the middle, powerful enough to cast a mantle of light over the Stone of Destiny. In that moment, Arnault felt all his fears abate, his heart too filled with wonder to hold anything else in that moment, until finally a purely human voice broke the spell- Lamberton, quietly reciting a bidding prayer to signify the commencement of Bruce's invest.i.ture.

A chorus of hushed amens concluded the bishop's prayer. Thereafter, Abbot Fingon addressed the company in his role as seannachie.

"Hear now these words regarding the sacred kings of Scotland," he began, "and learn what it truly means to be a king."

The disquisition that followed mirrored much of what Arnault had learned during his sojourn on Iona.

Abbot Fingon spoke briefly of the history of the Celtic peoples of these isles, going on to recite the names of Alba's kings from the time of Columba onward. This formal lesson in history was accompanied by a discourse on the traditions and responsibilities long a.s.sociated with Scottish kingship.

"In giving to King Aidan the Stone of Destiny to be his coronation seat," Abbot Fingon recalled, "Saint Columba was inst.i.tuting a practice by which the Scottish people might know and recognize their true monarch. For the king must be to them as a good shepherd to his sheep: their guide in times of confusion, their protector in times of trouble. So let it be with you, Robert Bruce, in whose veins the blood of the Canmore royal line flows true."

This exhortation served as prelude to a formal panegyric in which the abbot recited the lineage of Bruce's own family, at the same time noting and praising the heroic deeds of generations past. As Arnault listened, he reflected silently that none of the exploits of Bruce's forefathers could equal, let alone surpa.s.s, the challenges that lay ahead of Bruce himself. Such success as he had already achieved was darkly overshadowed by much greater dangers yet to come. But Arnault dared to hope that, once invested with the Stone's mystical powers, Bruce would find the fort.i.tude within himself to reforge his kingdom in the image of greatness, past and future.

"Witnesses present on behalf of the Scottish people," Abbot Fingon concluded at the end of his recitation, "I present unto you Robert Bruce of Annandale, undoubted King of this realm of Scotland, inheritor thereof by the laws of G.o.d and man, who has pledged himself willing to accept the kingship. Let him now be invested with the tokens of royalty, that he may become in name and in fact what he is already by right of birth and sacrifice."

At these words, Arnault stepped forward to join the abbot in conducting Bruce before the Stone. Bruce briefly closed his eyes as Fingon then began calling forward the individual members of the company to carry out the invest.i.ture.

First to approach was Abbot Henry of Scone, with the precious cope signifying the mantle of kingship.

This he laid upon Bruce's shoulders, clasping the gem-studded morse upon his breast-very like the High Priest's Breastplate, it suddenly occurred to Arnault.

"Receive this kingly mantle as an emblem of authority," Abbot Henry said. "May it please Almighty G.o.d to grant you all meritorious virtues, that you may wield that authority in accordance with His will."

Torquil then took up Bruce's sword, now serving as a sword of state, and lifted it to kiss the cross-hilt of the guard before presenting it to its owner, hilt uppermost.

"Receive this sword, likeness of the symbol of our faith, as an emblem of courage and fort.i.tude. May it serve you well in the defense of your land and your people."

Before taking the sword, Bruce bowed his head and likewise kissed the cross-guard. Then, closing his right hand around its hilt, he turned to salute each of the four airts, beginning with the east, where the altar lay. Finishing in the north, he paid lingering reverence to the three saints whose veiled presences enlightened the otherwise empty northern side of the chamber. When he had completed his salutations, he sheathed the blade in the empty scabbard at his side.

Bishop Crambeth next came forward to invest Bruce with the white wand. "Receive this rod as a token of governance," he said. "May you rule your subjects with wisdom, and administer the laws of this land with mercy and discernment."

When Bruce had received the wand, Abbot Fingon and Arnault formally a.s.sisted him to be seated on the Stone. The king's fingers tightened on the wand and he briefly closed his eyes, but all of them were well aware that the culmination was yet to come. It remained for Brother Ninian to step forward with the coronal wreath, to set this upon Bruce's head in place of a crown.

"Receive this coronal as a token of kingship," he said quietly, "bearing in mind the memory of those who came before you, not least William Wallace, whom we also honor here as Scotland's Uncrowned King.

"The laurel leaves are symbolic of your victory, and victory yet to come," he continued, "but they also recall the crown with which William Wallace was invested on the day of his death; the rosemary betokens that remembrance. Therefore, wear this crown in a spirit of humility, never forgetting his sacrifice in imitation of that King who is above all Kings, and before Whom every knee should bend.

May you be as ready, at need, to lay down your life for the sake of those you shall rule."

Bruce's taut face betrayed the depth of his inner emotion, his fingers clasped so tightly around the white wand across his knees that Arnault feared it might snap.

"I so pledge my readiness," he said softly. "And as G.o.d is my witness, henceforth I and all those who come after me who bear the name of Bruce shall take rosemary as the badge of their family honor, in faithful remembrance of William Wallace and of all the many others who have died to uphold the cause of Scottish freedom!"

The invocation of Wallace's name served to remind all present that Bruce had one last duty to perform: to bind himself to the Stone of Destiny and receive its mystical empowerment. Arnault once again came forward, starting to draw the dagger that had shed Wallace's blood. But before he could do so, Torquil stepped between him and Bruce, his arm across Arnault's chest, his glance darting between the two men.

"Not that blade," he murmured. "It is this night's blood which now shall bind the king to the Stone. That blade served well, but it also shed Comyn's blood. It would not be fitting that it be used for this holy rite.

The point has worried me since that day at Dumfries."

Chilled, Arnault let the dagger slip back into its sheath, appalled that he had not thought of it. But as Bruce looked at them uncertainly, Torquil slowly eased his own sword partway from its scabbard and sank to one knee, offering the hilt to Bruce.

"The day of Falkirk, you gave me this sword," he said. "I hope and pray that I have done you honor by it.

You said I would need it, if I came to serve you. I would have it serve you now, if that is your will."

Bruce's gray eyes met his, searching, uncertain. Then he closed his hand around the hilt.

"Will you a.s.sist me?" he asked.

"Most willingly," Torquil said.

Nodding his acceptance, Bruce gave the white wand to Arnault, then drew the blade the rest of the way from its scabbard and laid the sword across Torquil's hands. Torquil braced the weapon as Bruce closed his left palm around the tip of the blade, never taking his eyes from the Templar's- and sharply pulled his hand away, flinching slightly.

The hand he opened to display to the four quarters was bleeding, and he closed his eyes as he lowered it beside him, so that his b.l.o.o.d.y palm came to rest upon the Stone of Destiny. By that simple action, he made himself at one with Wallace and the Stone. And in that moment of unity, the power vested in the Stone yielded itself to him.

No outward physical sign attended the act, save that Bruce drew and exhaled a long breath, but all within the circle were aware, to varying degrees, of a surge of energies rising up to encompa.s.s Scotland's new king. Like tongues of sacramental fire, the power flowed and flickered around him. Bruce's still face was momentarily suffused with blind rapture as his spirit drank of the tide of enlightenment. Nor did the tide subside until this new human vessel had drunk its fill of the Stone's indwelling power.

For that timeless moment, utter silence reigned. Then the supernatural brightness of the room yielded peacefully to the familiar dimness of earthly lamplight as Columba and his fellow saints retired to the other side of that veil that marked the boundary between the Seen and the Unseen. A faint residual fragrance hovered for a moment in the wake of their departure, and Arnault sensed his fellow Templars gently exhaling as the tension faded. As he bestirred himself enough to lay the white wand back in the Bruce's slack hand, Torquil quietly sheathing his sword, Abbot Fingon broke the silence, once again speaking as seannachie for this earthly Chief of Chiefs.

"All hail Robert Bruce, King of Scots!" he said fervently. "Thanks be to G.o.d, together with all His angels and saints, for the work that has been accomplished this night in our midst!"

This acclamation was heartily echoed by all present. At the sound of their voices, Bruce lifted his head with the mildly startled air of a man awakening from a dream.

"And thanks be to you, my true and honorable friends," he said haltingly, "for I think that, without the aid and guidance of your vision, the flame now pa.s.sed to me would have perished long ago, and with it Scotland's hopes for liberty.

"But this moment, which marks the ending of one journey, likewise marks the beginning of another," he continued, gaining confidence. "Before us lies a road fraught with perils. It runs through the valley of the shadow of death, but I swear to you that no fear of either death or darkness shall hold me back from leading you to the other side. The Light which abides with us now is an eternal light of freedom which cannot be quenched. Let us pledge our loyalty to one another, knowing that so long as our faith holds true, the minions of darkness shall never prevail against us!"

Epilogue.

BRUCE'S WORDS CONTINUED TO ECHO AND REECHO IN THE back of Arnault's mind as they made their way back to Scone in the small hours of the morning. He wondered if the moment of empowerment had gifted Bruce with a vision of future events, as Wallace before him had been vouchsafed a glimpse of things yet to come. Such foreknowledge, as Arnault knew from his own experience, was often as much a burden as a blessing. Small wonder, then, if the new king should choose to keep silent concerning what he himself had foreseen.

They returned to Scone as swiftly and secretly as they had gone. Mere hours later, the rising sun ushered in the solemn observances of Palm Sunday, couched in the celebration of a pontifical High Ma.s.s to set a public seal on Bruce's crowning. The morning offices were followed by a reenactment of Friday's ceremony of enthronement and crowning, but for Arnault, these events had the quality of a dream.

Though he was present in body throughout the invest.i.ture and the swearing of fealties, his mind and spirit were preoccupied with contemplations of the previous night.

His own next duty-in which intent Luc concurred-was that he and Torquil should return to France as soon as possible, to report the successful outcome of Bruce's enthronement. It would mean but little to the Order in general, for claiming a crown and daring to hold it against the wrath of the English king would be two different things. But the other members of le Cercle would eagerly welcome the news that the sovereignty of Scotland was once again vested in a rightfully appointed king. Arnault and his allies might have won a few battle victories, but the outcome of the war itself was yet to be decided.

Later that evening, amid the leave-takings of various dignitaries setting off for their own lands, Arnault received an invitation to meet with Robert Bruce in the abbey's cloister garden for a few private words alone. The evening stars were just beginning to appear when he entered the garden. Bruce was pacing up and down in the shelter of an arbor, its interlacing branches still thin and bare, with only buds showing at the tips of each twig. He welcomed Arnault's arrival with a smile, gesturing then that they should walk a while.

"I called you here first to thank you once again for all your help," the king said. "But I also wish to ask about a question weighing on my mind."

"Then, ask," Arnault said. "I shall do my best to answer it."

"My Scottish bishops have endorsed my kingship," Bruce said, "because they know they can trust me to uphold the independence of the Scottish Church and its clergy. The monks of Iona similarly have given me their support, knowing that I will honor their Celtic ways. But you and your companions remain something of a mystery to me. I have been wondering why members of the Order of the Temple should go to such lengths to see me enthroned according to the traditions of Columba."

Arnault was taken slightly aback by the question, for the reasons were many and complicated, and not all could be shared with the Bruce.

"You are right to deduce that we have our reasons," he said thoughtfully. "If I hesitate over my answer, it is because the reasons are by no means simple to explain."

"After what took place last night," Bruce said with a wry glimmer of humor, "you might be surprised what I would be willing to accept."

Arnault studied the new king for a long moment. Looking deep into the other man's eyes, he perceived clear evidence of the changes that the Stone's empowerment had wrought: a deepening of mind and insight, a clearer vision of what it truly meant to be a king. It occurred to him that Bruce's inquiries were prompted by the same influences that had been guiding their common purpose all along. Taking some of the initiative sometimes allowed by his oaths to le Cercle, he decided that it was meant that the other man be vouchsafed some partial knowledge of the greater truth.

"The Stone of Destiny is not the only artifact of power known to our Order," he said. "Some of us within the Temple have made it our life's work to recover and preserve such treasures for the good of all mankind. Our hope in the past was to establish a grand reliquarium for these objects in Jerusalem. With the fall of the Holy City, however, we now believe that Providence has singled out another place for that purpose."

Bruce's brow furrowed. "Scotland?" he hazarded incredulously.

Arnault confirmed it with a nod. "To serve as home for our greatest treasures, Scotland itself must be a free nation. We could not sit idly by and let her fall victim to the acquisitive greed of England's king."

"But there were Templars aiding Edward at the battle of Berwick, at Falkirk," Bruce protested. "More than once since then, Edward has commended the Master of the English Temple for his services."

"That Master had an agenda of his own," Arnault replied, declining to be more specific, "and the Order is not the unified brotherhood it once was. That makes it all the more important that those of us who are appointed guardians of these secret treasures find a safe and inviolate haven for them."

A long silence fell between them as Bruce a.s.similated this revelation.

"If you hope for Scotland's freedom," he said at last, "you must know that the fight is only just beginning.

If it is to be truly won, the cost will not be light."

"Where there are great issues at stake, often the price of resolution is proportionately dear," Arnault said.

"But in this case," he added, "I think you have already been shown a reason to hope for victory."

"Whether G.o.d should see fit to deliver Scotland out of the hands of her enemies remains to be seen,"