“Thou shalt not covet…” Marc said once the stars aligned.

“Now you got it,” Bertrand said. “A beautiful woman like your mother easily awoke something in him that his barren wife could not.”

It was a story that wrote itself a shame that Marc was a side character in such a poorly written play. I know that Christine de Pizan could have managed far better.

Still, they were talking about his father, and of what they said today was true a few popped up. Marc’s personal failings aside, the most obvious commandments were…

“Thou shalt not kill and thou shalt not bear false witness,” Marc said. “Those are rather obvious.”

Stealing was a given with their family. His father was bitter they had lost their independence from France. Being under the thumb of a Bourbon enraged him to no end. For that reason they often misrepresented the taxes collected, to line their pockets and weaken the King. At least I know where I get my temper from. 

“Thou shalt not covet…” Marc said once the stars aligned.

“Surely you remember the Ten Commandments,” Bertrand asked.

Marc had to admit that he seldom thought of them. Given that ‘Honour thy Mother and Father‘ ranked above many of the harsher crimes. Given his feelings towards the Comte and Comtesse he often wondered why he had not yet been smitten by God.

Still, they were talking about his father, and of what they said today was true a few popped up.

A question remained. While the result was clear enough to see, the initial motivations were not. 

“Why?” Marc had to ask. 

“A great question,” Bertrand said.

Bertrand took Marc by the shoulders, and kneeled enough so they were at eye level with one another. Some of the staff had commented that Bertrand had dead eyes, but Marc always saw a shine in them.

“Surely you remember the Ten Commandments,” Bertrand asked.

“Were his wishes followed?” Marc said as a stab in the dark.

Bertrand smiled at that question, he approached the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. There was nothing threatening to the act, and had a strangely soothing effect on Marc’s soul. 

“To the letter,” Bertrand replied with a straight face. “He perished and was buried within these woods. We simply made sure it was on consecrated ground.”

That would have been a risk, as the Comte might have learned of their liberal application of an order. Still, they were technically correct and his father would never willingly venture out into the forest without cause. That man is so corpulent that he needs attendants to get him up and down stairs…

“A snake by any other name,” Marc mused. “Did the Comte have something to do with it?”

“It can’t be proven,” Bertrand said. “I suspect it’s true. Marcellin was the only man to die in a hunt? Your father the only witness? Who then ordered that he be buried where he fell?”

That was rather suspicious, but Marc doubted the man would wantonly take a life on consecrated ground. The Church was a powerful force, and the financial penance exacted for such an indulgence would have left the Comte in their debt.