The Omega Factor(117)
As for travel related to this story, Elizabeth and I visited Ghent and saw the renovated altarpiece in all its glory. We also journeyed to southern France, including Carcassonne, Toulouse, up into the Pyrénées, and an incredible trek to the Abbey of Saint-Martin-du-Canigou.
Time now to separate fact from fiction.
Ghent is an ancient Belgian town (chapters 27, 41, 42), a remarkable place, and its various locales detailed in the story are accurate. Saint Bavo’s Cathedral (chapter 24), home to the Ghent Altarpiece, has stood since the thirteenth century. Inside is part church, part museum, and part art gallery. The Gravensteen is an impressive twelfth-century citadel (chapter 5). The Graslei (chapter 1) houses a number of trendy cafés and shops, remaining, as in medieval times, a center of commerce. The rivers Scheldt and Leie wind their way through downtown, definitely cutting Ghent up like pieces to a puzzle. The Novotel Gent Centrum (chapter 30) exists, as does the Groentenmarkt (chapter 42). Only the convent for the Maidens of Saint-Michael and the city’s morgue (chapter 44) are my inventions.
A visit to Carcassonne (chapters 2, 10) is like a trip back to the thirteenth century. Its atmosphere and history are hard to ignore. The Hôtel de la Cité (chapter 2) exists, as does the terrace room that Bernat de Foix enjoys. Montségur (chapters 31, 33) is worth a visit, though the climb up is not for the faint of heart. The Cathar monument noted in chapter 33 is there, as is the Field of the Burned. Toulouse (chapters 18, 40) is a Languedoc city with a long, rich heritage. Béziers (chapter 4) was indeed the place where the Albigensian Crusade began. The maidens’ rock chapel (chapter 68) is based on several that exist across southern France, particularly the one at Gorges de Galamus (chapter 70). The Pyrénées Mountains, the Roussillon region, and the Languedoc itself are all faithfully represented. What a wonderful corner of the world. If you ever have the opportunity, pay all three a visit.
The Cultural Liaison and Investigative Office (CLIO), a play off the Greek goddess Clio, the muse of history, is my invention, though the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) is real. One function of that organization is the selection of World Heritage Sites. I thought it ironic to have Nick work for them, while Cotton Malone has a bit of a troubled history with those sites. The reference to the UN member-state agreement in chapter 14 (Section 9, Part C, Paragraph [f]) is my invention, though such a document does exist. The FBI’s special units charged with art theft recovery exist (chapter 5).
The Maidens of Saint-Michael and the Congregation of Saint-Luke are fictional, though the latter is somewhat based on the life and work of Plautilla Nelli, one of the first significant female Renaissance artists, along with an organization known as Advancing Women Artists, which champions forgotten works from female artists of the past. The location of the maidens’ motherhouse, Abbaye de Saint-Michael, and some of the maidens’ history, is modeled after the eleventh-century Abbey of Saint-Martin-du-Canigou, located in southern France, near the Spanish border. The archdiocese of Toulouse is one of the oldest within the Roman Catholic Church, its history and status as a metropolitan archdiocese (chapter 18) accurate. The village of Las Illas (chapter 38) and les Vautours are totally my creation.
The Pontifical Commission for Sacred Archaeology (chapter 26) is real, as are its scope and purpose as detailed within the story. The medieval document quoted in chapter 28 is taken from an actual historical record. Only my addition of les Vautours is fictional. Waterboarding was used extensively by Catholic inquisitors across France and Spain (chapter 7). The fleur-de-lys (prologue, chapters 14, 19, 69) is an ancient symbol that has a connection to both the Holy Trinity and the Virgin Mary. The Cross of Occitan on the cover and noted in chapter 22 is constantly mislabeled as a “Cathar cross.” In reality, its history and use are far more secular and predated the Cathars.
Joan of Arc plays a role in the story (chapters 17, 23). She is a fascinating historical figure. Much has been written about her, some of it true, some false. We actually know little about her. But her trial and execution in 1431 are well documented (chapters 17, 23), as is the fact that her ashes were supposedly tossed into a river. Twenty-five years after her death the guilty verdict was reversed (chapter 53) when it became more politically expedient to worship, rather than vilify, her. As to her remains, many ashes and bones have been claimed to be Joan’s. None have proven as such. The most recent example came in 2007 when a rib bone, supposedly retrieved from the burning pyre in 1431, was discovered to be that of an Egyptian mummy, dating to the third or seventh century BC. Whether any of Joan’s bones or ashes were actually recovered is totally unknown. So the maidens accomplishing that feat, and Joan herself being a maiden, are both fictional.
The Cathar religion is fascinating. In its simplest form it was a pacifist brand of Christianity, tolerance and poverty its keystones. Woven into that were dualist theories and a total rejection of the material world. M. J. Rose and I explored those beliefs in The Lake of Learning (2019), a Cassiopeia Vitt novella. This novel allowed further examination. The consolamentum and the melhoramentum (chapter 2) are two essential rituals along the way to becoming a Perfectus, which is the goal of every Cathar. The religion itself supposedly died out six hundred years ago. A bit of art and a few writings are all that have survived. Is it still practiced? Hard to say. But all across the Languedoc the memory of Catharism is actively exploited.
The Gospel of John was important to Catharism (chapters 2, 39). The Good Men (as they were known) hated the Old Testament and most of the New. The prayers and replies noted in chapters 2 and 71 are taken from actual surviving text. As mentioned earlier, the slaughter at Béziers happened, which began the Albigensian Crusade (chapter 4), but whether the command—the Lord knoweth them that are his. Kill them all. He will recognize his own—was issued is a matter of historical debate. But thousands were indiscriminately murdered. The Catholic Church apologized in 2000 for all its past sins (chapter 33), but, as noted in the story, no specific mention of the Cathars was included. The endura, described in chapter 45, was a part of Cathar beliefs.