Mithraism flourished in the Roman Empire between the first and fourth centuries, around the same time that the new religion of Christianity began its ascent. An all-male Mystery Cult, Mithraism spread as far afield as England, carried there by members of the Roman legions as they conquered the world. The seven major ranks of initiates as described in Winter of the Gods are all depicted in numerous surviving mosaics and frescoes. Only one ancient source, however, mentions the female Hyaena. If she ever existed, she has been largely forgotten; I couldn’t resist giving her a life of her own.
Scholars estimate that hundreds, perhaps thousands, of mithraea existed across the Roman Empire. Today, the remains of some of those secret temples are easily accessible to the public, such as the chamber beneath the Basilica of San Clemente in Rome or the sixteen mithraea still extant in the nearby archeological site of Ostia Antica. Others are open only one day a month by reservation, such as the spectacular remains beneath the Church of Santa Prisca. For a comprehensive database, with images included, of Mithraic artifacts and temples, check out mithraeum.eu. My website, jordannamaxbrodsky.com, contains a collection of photos from the sites I’ve personally visited.
The bull-killing scene, or tauroctony, exists in nearly every Mithraic temple. Scholars have debated its meaning for a very long time. Franz Cumont, the cult’s first modern interpreter, theorized that Mithras was merely a reinvention of the Persian god Mithra. Current scholars see Mithraism as a primarily Roman creation instead, but their explanations of the tauroctony vary. In 1991, David Ulansey presented a compelling, comprehensive interpretation of the tauroctony in The Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries: Cosmology and Salvation in the Ancient World. Theo and Minh’s epiphanies about the shift of the equinoxes and the astronomical significance behind the tauroctony are based almost entirely on Ulansey’s groundbreaking work. Apologies to him—and to all Mithraic scholars—for the simplifications and generalizations I’ve used to fit their theories into my work of fiction. If you’d like a more detailed understanding of the cult, you can read Ulansey’s excellent articles at mysterium.com.
The connection between Mithras and Jesus proposed in Winter of the Gods is inspired by actual theories. The two figures do have a number of corresponding characteristics, such as participating in a ritual feast, ascending to heaven, and an association with the sun. These similarities have led some academics over the years to theorize that early Christians may have been highly influenced by Mithraism. Some conspiracy theorists have latched on to this correlation and decided that Christianity is no more than an imitation of this “pagan” rite. However, most current scholars maintain that the religions’ similarities arose because they evolved in the same era with the same influences, rather than due to any direct interaction. Since we will never know the full extent of the connection between the two religions, there remains plenty of room for a novelist’s imagination.
The Piacenza liver is real, its inscriptions referring either to the Etruscan gods or to astronomical charts. Most scholars agree that its primary use was as a teaching tool for haruspicy, but don’t get too excited—its secrets are so deeply buried by time that it’s not about to reveal any earth-shattering omens.
While I’ve taken licenses with the landscape of classical scholarship, I’ve tried to remain as true as possible to the geography of New York. All the locations (with the exceptions of the underground mithraeum and the bootlegger’s tunnel beneath Selene’s house) are real. Anyone can (and should) visit the Rose Center for Earth and Space, the Prometheus and Atlas statues, and the breathtaking Top of the Rock observation deck. Brunch at the Rainbow Room will cost you a small fortune, but the views are indeed spectacular—and so are the poached eggs. Although illegal to enter, an Amtrak tunnel runs down the West Side to Penn Station (as many of the city’s more intrepid urban explorers can attest). Governors Island is as described—except for Mars’s lair beneath Castle Williams, which is wholly fictional. North Brother Island, now an inaccessible bird sanctuary, was indeed a quarantine hospital and the site of the wreck of the General Slocum. Check out the fascinating RadioLab episode “Patient Zero” and photos of the island at radiolab.org. For images of the derelict hotel that houses Flint’s forge, read Pablo Maurer’s article, “Abandoned NY: Inside Grossinger’s Crumbling Catskill Resort Hotel” on gothamist.com. And if you want to know more about the War of 1812 blockhouse, head to the northwest corner of Central Park or see photos of it on my website.
Since 9/11, you need a reservation to get into the Statue of Liberty’s crown—often made months in advance. From inside, New York’s Colossus seems both more intimate and more impressive: a thin sheet of copper folded into the visage of a deity. If Winter of the Gods has whetted your appetite for getting inside the head of a goddess, I suggest you make the trip to Liberty Island for yourself. Gazing out the windows of the crown at Lower Manhattan, towering far above the harbor, you feel divine indeed.
Jordanna Max Brodsky
New York, NY
July 2016