The Omega Factor(118)
Jan van Eyck was truly a Renaissance man long before there was a Renaissance. He did not invent painting with oil, but he did take the technique to new heights, changing art forever. The history noted on him in chapter 37 is true, and the Ghent Altarpiece is still regarded as one of the greatest works of all time.
Philip the Good ruled Burgundy for forty-eight years. That’s a long time by fifteenth-century standards. He was a member of the Valois dynasty, to which all French kings at the time belonged. During his reign the Burgundian state reached the apex of its prosperity and prestige and became a leading center for the arts. He flip-flopped on politics, though, alternating alliances during the Hundred Years’ War between the English and French, each shift designed to improve his own power base. History notes that he captured Joan of Arc and turned her over to the English, knowing she would be put to death. Jan van Eyck not only acted as court painter, but worked as Philip’s spy, engaging in several extraterritorial missions. None, though, involved a visit to the Pyrénées (prologue), and van Eyck is not buried in southern France (chapter 61).
The Order of Preachers, or Dominicans as they are more commonly known (chapters 35, 50, 54), was started in the thirteenth century and played a key role in both the Albigensian Crusade and the subsequent Inquisition. The Gyronny Cross (chapters 35, 50) is still worn by the friars, as are the black and white robes. The similarity of the Dominicans, in the beginning, to Cathar practices (chapter 50) is real, and many say that was anything but unintentional. Today, the order is devoted to teaching and spreading the Gospel, not leading armies or inquisitions. Unfortunately, many times in fiction involving the Catholic Church the Dominicans are tagged as the bad guys. Forgive me for adding one more story to that pile.
Prime to this plot is the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, or the Ghent Altarpiece (chapters 11, 21, 45). It’s huge, twelve feet high, fifteen feet wide, loaded with symbolism, and portrays the apparition of Jesus at the end of times. The history of the work, as detailed throughout the story, is accurate. And it is indeed the world’s most violated work of art. The altarpiece is currently undergoing an extensive cleaning and restoration, which I incorporated into this tale. The website mentioned in chapter 11, Closer to Van Eyck, is real. There you can view the altarpiece in all its high-resolution glory.
The 1934 theft of the twelfth panel happened (chapters 11, 34). To this day the original Just Judges is gone (chapter 11) and the theft remains an open criminal case. The information noted in chapter 11 about the suspected thief is all accurate. My addition of two maidens to the crime is fictional. The presumed thief died in November 1934, a few months after the crime. His final words, that the panel rests in a place where neither I, nor anybody else, can take it away without arousing the attention of the public, offer the only clue as to its whereabouts. People have been searching for nearly ninety years to no avail. A copy of the Just Judges was produced between 1939 and 1945 by a Belgian, Jef Van der Veken (chapter 48). That copy is now part of the finished altarpiece currently on display. The idea of Van der Veken painting over the original, then returning it as a supposed reproduction, is not new. In March 1974 a conservator raised that possibility, which caused an investigation. Tests were run but, strangely, the results were never published. Instead, only an announcement was made that the reproduction concealed nothing beneath. Needless to say, all that obtuseness only fueled more speculation.
Van der Veken did indeed inscribe the poem (quoted in chapter 16) on the back of his reproduction. Cryptic and odd, it too has only fanned the flames of what might have happened to the original Just Judges. Many questions remain but, in the made-up world of this novel, no such doubts exist nor did any examination of the reproduction ever occur, allowing me to place the original Just Judges beneath the copy.
Veritas Vita (chapter 32) appears on the altarpiece, as do the lines about the Virgin Mary quoted in chapter 46. The reproduced Just Judges panel is as described in chapter 48, and the image depicted in chapter 53 is of the 1945 reproduction. I invented the inclusion of double images of Jan van Eyck on the original Just Judges. The pointer exists on the reproduced panel and I noticed how a straight line from there passed through the adjacent Knights panel, right over a figure that has been widely identified as Joan of Arc (chapter 53). Keep going and that line enters the main panel and does indeed find the faint image of a distant building. An enlargement of that image appears in chapter 53, as it can only be seen under high resolution. But here’s a fascinating fact: during the restoration of the main panel, which occurred a few years ago, that faint image of a distant building was removed entirely from the altarpiece. Comparisons of the before-and-after images clearly show that it’s gone. Why? I have no idea. But it does make you wonder. To finish up on the altarpiece, the poem in chapter 58 is loosely based on an actual lyric from the sixteenth century, written about a Spanish copy of the altarpiece created for the royal chapel in the Alcazar. An excellent source for more reading on the Ghent Altarpiece is Stealing the Mystic Lamb, by Noah Charney.
This novel centers on the Virgin Mary (chapter 38, 43). Biblical references to her are few and far between. She is barely mentioned. It fell to theologians and the church to supply Mary with a full biography. And they definitely rose to the challenge, providing a thorough family history, laced with the amazing, all fashioned to fit the image of the almost-deity they wanted her to be. They even chose her appearance as European (chapter 43), with fair skin, regardless of the fact that she would have almost certainly been of Arab descent, living her entire life in the Middle East.