Chapters (30)
- Praise
- Also by Kate Quinn
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Dedication
- Part One
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Part Two
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Epilogue
- Historical Note
- Characters List
- Readers Guide
- Special Excerpt from THE LION AND THE ROSE
13. Do you suspect that Rodrigo cares to save Giulia once she’s captured by the French? Why or why not?
14. Giulia reflects on the difference between passion and love, declaring that Rodrigo and Orsino both feel passion for her but not love. Do you agree? Are any of the female characters capable of inspiring love?
Special Excerpt from THE LION AND THE ROSE
TURN THE PAGE FOR A SPECIAL PREVIEW OF THE NEXT NOVEL OF THE BORGIAS,
The LION and the ROSE
AVAILABLE JANUARY 2014
FROM BERKLEY BOOKS
Giulia
You’d think that the Holy Father would have an all-seeing gaze, wouldn’t you? Being God’s Vicar here upon earth, surely he would be granted divine sight into the hearts and souls of men as soon as that silly papal hat everyone insisted on calling a tiara was lowered onto his brow. The truth is, most popes don’t have divine insight into much of anything. If they did, they’d get on with the business of making saints and saving souls rather than pronouncing velvet gowns as impious, or persecuting the poor Jews. Blasphemy it may be, but most popes have no more insight into the minds of humanity than does any carter or candlestick-maker walking the streets of Rome in wooden clogs.
And my Pope was no exception. He was the cleverest man I knew in some ways—those black eyes of his had only to pass benignly over his bowing cardinals to know exactly which ones were scheming against him, and certainly that despicable French King had learned not to cross wits or swords with Rodrigo Borgia over the past year and a half since I’d been ransomed. But when it came to his family, His Holiness Pope Alexander VI was as dense as a plank.
At least at the moment he was a very happy plank.
“Mi familia,” he said thickly, and began to raise his goblet but put it down again to dash a heavy hand at the water standing in his eyes. “My children all together again. Cesare, Lucrezia, Joffre—Juan—”