“Truly, Francesca, if all women were like you, I would become a Turk solely for the purpose of assembling a harem.”

“We all make choices, Francesca. You are no different from anyone else in that regard. If you truly think otherwise, you are deluding yourself.”

“Who 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?”

“Giulia 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.”

“.... I am in no position to judge you or anything you do.''Yet you think I could be judged were you not so magnanimous as to forgo the exercise?”

“He turned his head just then and for a moment, our eyes met. I would like to tell you that I saw the face of evil when I looked at the Grand Inquisitor, but in fact he seemed like so many men who serve Holy Mother Church: a bureaucrat for whom the suffering of humanity is of no account compared to his imagined visions of the will of God. It is said that the Devil enters through back doors and in disguise, but men such as Torquemada never seemed to consider that. He is dead now, as I tell this tale. I wonder how warmly the One he served welcomed him into eternity.”

“You 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.”