"The computer? Oh, lovely," he grins. "So much so that I'm wondering where all these swear words and curses come from every time I try to make the thing do something it clearly doesn't want to. The other day I discovered... bookmarks. I felt like Alexander the Great for the entire afternoon." Chuckling, he remembers his elation over finding something so glaringly obvious. "And it's on the computer that I found out about the Vatican: they've published the entire set of original case records of the trials against the Knights Templars today. Exciting stuff, this; really."

He doesn't add how much it irks and pains him - that even De Molay et altri would get their justice, at last, while his own name keeps being maligned.

"Some brother indeed. My sister was the best of us," he says after a pause, gaze serious. "She backed us and kept us together when we menfolk had made a mess of it." He looks at Gren's expressive, melancholic eyes and knows he can't tell him - maybe not yet, maybe not ever - that he's killed the man Lucrezia loved dearly. "But since you ask... yes, I do think women have it easier and better today, which is their right and fair share. Because even the highest-born, the best-educated, the loveliest women - my sister, if you will - they weren't much more than chattel. Marriages, in our circles, were political transactions." And if he ever could make it up to Lucrezia, betrayer and betrayed, the last who held him and treated him like a human being... Déu, he would.

"So... that all happened on cold Callisto?" he asks quietly.