”“I’ll go out to the car and get my stuff,” she said.When she left, I watched her walk up the path, looking at her round ass and thought to myself, “It’s going to be a challenge living with such a sexy young woman.” Then I thought, “She’s young enough to be my daughter. I can’t let anything go on with her. I have to respect her privacy.”When she came back in with a small suitcase and a backpack, I asked if she’d like a cup of coffee or tea.”“Sure, let me put my stuff in the other room and I’ll join you,” she said.While she was gone, I put on the coffee and got two mugs down and put them on the round oak table I had by the window. I had bird feeders right outside and loved sitting at the table watching the birds.She sat down and noticed the bird feeders. “Oh, wow, this is great. I love watching birds.”Just then there was a woodpecker at the suet and several yellow head finches at the feeder. I poured her coffee and she picked up the mug, holding it with both hands. “Great coffee,” she. Thus far, Sir Jean had remained silent, keeping his mind focused on what was about to happen, mentally preparing himself to kill or be killed. Robert handled his master a long war lance, from which a red and silver pennant fluttered. Jean rose the tip high in the air and spurred his horse forward. He waited for his entourage to mount up, then lead the procession forward and out onto the streets of Paris.They made the short walk to the Abbey of Saint Martin des Champs solemnly, riding past the crowd of people that filled the streets, all looking on in somber silence. They passed through the gates into the courtyard. Sir Jean was surprised by the number of people filling the stands and lining the walled area of the list. No one was cheering or making cat-calls. They were as silent as a funeral, having been warned by the Marshal that anyone who yelled out would be killed. This was not a celebration.The first thing he noticed was his wife, Marguerite. She was seated, alone, dressed in a.
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