He was a handsome man, not in the way of mercurial Cesare or the false angel, Morozzi, but with a calm steadiness that sat well upon him and shown in everything he did. The creations he drew from fire and air were possessed of great delicacy, but I was coming to realize that the man himself was as an oak, unshakable in the greatest storm.
Sara PooleHave you noticed that those who murder in the thousands invariably claim divine favor while those who kill on a far more modest scale, myself included, know in our hearts that God weeps for our sins?
Sara PoolePopes come and go, empires clash, new worlds arise, but Rome is eternally Rome, which is to say that its people were busy as always sweating, swearing, eating, fornicating, occasionally praying, and without surcease, gossiping.
Sara PooleMen prickle for so many reasons it is often impossible to know what provokes them on any given occasion.
Sara PooleYou are bruised.'
'Am I? I hadn't noticed.'
'Lucrezia says you killed the bastard.'
... Cesare's hands were shaking. Hard, sun-darkened hands made to hold a sword or lance unflinchingly, but they trembled against my pale skin.
If his Holiness asks for me, tell him I am -" I was what? What excuse would be sufficient to hold off Borgia the Bull when he wanted, nay demanded attention?
'Tell him I am attending to a gynecological matter but will return shortly.
He was then sixty-two years old, an age by which most men are in the grave or at least occupying a chair in Death's antechamber.
Sara PooleWho are you?'
'My name is Francesca Giordano.'
Il re dei contrabbandieri paled. He pressed himself into the high back of his chair and stared at me in disbelief.
'You can't be her. She's old and has warts.'
'Because she is strega? Ask yourself, why would any self-respecting witch go about looking old and with warts?
The thick murmur of my name on his tongue was almost enough to push me over the edge as I clung to the sweetly strange need to hold him safe within my arms. Even, dare I say, within my body. Is it the conceit of every woman that she can provide such a haven? Is it the dream of every man to find it?
Sara PooleGiulia clasped her hands together just below her bosom, blinked moistly, and flung herself at Borgia's feet. 'My lord! My darling! How could I not be overcome with concern for you? Truly, the burdens you carry would crush any other man. How fortunate we are that Our Father in Heaven has endowed our father here on earth with such wisdom and strength to see us through this difficult time.'
What amazed me - and still does - is that men actually believe such drivel. Even a man as worldly, as brilliant, and above all as cynical as Borgia will nod complacently and accept it as his due. Nor did Cesare so much as raise an eyebrow. I supposed he heard the same sort of thing often enough himself.
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