The travel for this novel involved some of the best trips Elizabeth and I have ever taken. First, we visited Lake Como and all of the sites associated with Mussolini’s failed escape attempt and ultimate execution. What a spectacular corner of the world. Next, we twice ventured to Malta, which is truly an amazing place. Rome and the Vatican were locales we’ve explored several times before.
Now it’s time to separate fact from fiction.
Mussolini’s escape from Milan, in an attempt to flee to Switzerland, as recounted in the prologue, happened. Claretta Petacci died with him, both of them executed by partisans (chapters 1 and 40). To this day no one knows for sure who pulled the trigger. Many have claimed the honor, though. Most of what Mussolini says in the prologue is taken from his actual words, uttered near the end of his life but not at the villa. The addition of a representative from the Knights of Malta was my invention. Mussolini brought with him gold, currency, and two satchels full of documents (chapter 3). Only a tiny amount of the gold was ever found in Lake Como by local fishermen. The vast majority of the cache (including the documents) has never been seen since. There was an Italian trial in the 1950s where several defendants were accused of theft, but it ended abruptly, without resolution, and no further investigation was ever undertaken (chapter 19). The connection of the judge in that trial with the villa owner in the prologue is fabricated.
This story spans a multitude of fascinating locales. Lake Como, the site of Mussolini’s execution, and the Four Seasons in Milan are faithfully described. In Rome the Foro Mussolini (which became the Foro Italico), the Hotel d’Inghilterra, the Palazzo di Malta, and the Villa del Priorato di Malta are there as described. I wanted this novel to showcase Malta, so a special effort was made to include as many locations as possible. Valletta, the co-cathedral, the grand master’s palace, the Grand Harbor, the Madliena and Lippija Towers, Marsaskala, St. Paul’s Bay, Mdina, the Pwales Valley, the grottoes along the south shore, the tunnels beneath Valletta built by the knights (chapter 17), and the Westin Dragonara are all real. Parasailing is a popular activity off Malta (chapter 4), one I (like Luke) enjoyed. Only the Church of St. Louise Magyar’s (chapter 49) is fictional, but the maiden’s legend I associated with it is accurate (chapter 32). Its inner chapel is modeled after the Church of Piedigrotta in Pizzo, Italy.
The fasces (chapter 3) is an ancient Roman symbol, and the Italian National Fascists took their name from it.
Mussolini did indeed leave a mark on Rome. Many of his building projects and grand roadways still exist (chapter 29). Inside the Foro Italico (once the Foro Mussolini) stands the obelisk described in the story. It’s true that the Codex Fori Mussolini was sealed inside it in the 1930s, a manifesto to the greatness of fascism and its leader (chapters 28, 29, 34, and 36). We know this because its text was printed in Italian newspapers at the time. Unlike in this novel, though, the codex remains sealed inside. The medal commemorating the obelisk Luke examines in chapter 29 is real.
The tale about the croissant’s origins (chapter 12) is one of those delightful fables nobody really knows is true. Charlemagne’s symbol, as depicted in chapter 12, was his signature. I dealt with this extensively in The Charlemagne Pursuit. It’s a fact that anyone can be elected pope (chapter 10), but the last time that happened was 1379. Tal-lira clocks are all over Malta (chapter 30), as are the colorful dghajsa boats (chapter 32). And the legend of Skinned Tom that Luke recalls in chapter 60 is popular in east Tennessee.
The Hospitallers, now known as the Sovereign Military Hospitallers Order of St. John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes, and of Malta, or more simply the Knights of Malta, have existed for nine hundred years. The eight-pointed Maltese cross (chapter 7) has long been their symbol. All of the history attributed to the knights (chapters 4, 12, and 16), and the laws quoted in chapter 44, are accurate. Today the knights are a highly successful humanitarian organization. The Secreti once existed within them. Whether the group still does today is unknown, since the inner workings of the order are closely guarded. My reconstituted Secreti are purely imaginary.
The two villas in Rome—Palazzo di Malta and the Villa del Priorato di Malta—together form the smallest sovereign nation in the world (chapter 16). The Villa Pagana, at Rapallo, serves as the grand master’s summer residence (chapter 19). A nearby archive (chapter 21) is my invention. Guvas once dotted Malta, the underground prisons unique to the knights (chapter 14). Now only one remains, at Fort St. Angelo in Valletta. I created two more. The keyhole on Aventine Hill, at the Villa del Priorato di Malta, does offer an amazing view of St. Peter’s Basilica (chapter 28). Whether that was intentional, or merely fortuitous, is unknown.
The Nostra Trinità (chapter 26) is totally my creation, but two of its elements, the Pie Postulatio Voluntatis and the Ad Providam, are actual documents. The Constitutum Constantini is all mine, as is its backstory (chapter 48), though the concepts it explores—that religion is a creation of man, and the Catholic Church formulated its core doctrine for survival—are real (chapters 62, 63, and 64). Religious historians have long explored that subject in minute detail.
The co-cathedral in Valletta (chapter 40) is magnificent, especially the floor, which is consumed by over four hundred marble tombs. Each one is unique and magnificent. All of the ones used in the novel exist (chapters 41, 43, and 44), including the tomb of Bartolomeo Tommasi di Cortona (chapter 45) that contains three symbols, one of them the Chi Rho that is closely associated with Constantine. There’s a clock depicted on that tomb, but a real manifestation of that clock inside the cathedral is my creation (chapter 46).
Malta was besieged in 1565 by the Turks (chapter 8), but the knights resisted the invasion. That victory did in fact halt a Turkish advance across the Mediterranean and save Europe. Afterward, the island was ringed by a series of thirteen watchtowers that still stand. All of the ones mentioned in the novel exist. It was fun to incorporate them into the treasure hunt, even more fortunate that eight of them, when joined, formed a cross (chapters 47 and 48). The Apostle Paul did in fact visit Malta, bringing Christianity to the island, his exploits expressly depicted in the Bible (chapter 13).
All of the Vatican locales are accurately portrayed, including the Sistine Chapel, Apostolic Palace, museums, the Domus Sanctae Marthae, Vatican Gardens, and train station (chapters 65, 67, 68, 69, 70, and 71). The position of prefect of the Apostolic Signatura (chapter 5), which Kastor Gallo holds, is one of long standing.
The legal and political distinction between the Vatican City State and the Holy See (chapter 13) came into existence thanks to the 1929 Lateran Treaty. The curia (chapter 15) manages both, with the pope in sole command. The problem of trying to contain the curia is one of long standing. Sadly, all of the corruption detailed from Spagna’s flash drive (chapters 15 and 18) is taken from actual scandals that have rocked the Holy See for the past decade. A good discussion on this subject can be found in Merchants in the Temple and Ratzinger Was Afraid, both by Gianluigi Nuzzi. The Vatican continues to deny there are any scandals or internal problems, but Nuzzi makes a good case to the contrary.
The Entity is real. It dates back five hundred years and is the world’s oldest intelligence agency. The Vatican has never acknowledged that the organization exists, but its history is long and storied (chapter 20). There is also a pope’s spymaster whose identity is kept secret. My label of Domino Suo is fictional. A terrific history on this subject is The Entity, by Eric Frattini.
The Churchill–Mussolini letters described in the story are a matter of legend, rumored to exist, but never seen. Mussolini having them with him when he tried to flee Italy in 1945 is my addition to their story. The letters quoted in chapter 9 are my creations, but I drew heavily on Churchill and Mussolini’s own words. Churchill’s signature is real. Upon assuming the office of prime minister, Churchill wanted to use Malta as a bargaining chip to keep Italy from aligning with Germany. But the British War Cabinet rejected the notion. Ultimately, Malta became critical and held out a multiyear siege by Germany and Italy, the entire country earning the George’s Cross (chapter 9).
Mussolini’s supposed alliance with Popes Pius XI and XII (chapter 38) happened. Neither pope was progressive. In many ways they saw eye-to-eye with Mussolini’s ultraconservatism. It’s a fact that Il Duce managed to keep the Catholic Church at bay. Never once did the Vatican publicly strike out against fascism. By 1939 Pius XI was ready to shift gears and do just that, but he died before he could openly challenge the government. Pius XII never carried through on that move. The full extent of Pius XII’s attitudes toward Germany, the Holocaust, Nazis, and Mussolini will probably never be known. For more on this subject, take a look at The Pope and Mussolini, by David Kertzer.
Napoleon invaded Malta in 1798 and took the island without much of a fight (chapters 11 and 15). The knights had, by then, deteriorated to nothing. At that point Napoleon had not achieved emperor status but he was definitely scheming. Part of his grandiose plan involved eliminating the influence of the Catholic Church and the establishment of his own religion, one with himself at its head (chapter 26). To further that end, he ultimately sacked and looted the Vatican, twice. He likewise pillaged Malta, taking all of his spoils with him to Egypt where they ended up at the bottom of the sea.
The Knights of Malta were immensely unpopular on the island (chapter 25). They ruled with cruelty and arrogance. But the French were hated even worse, forced to leave in 1800 after only two years of occupation, opening the way for the British to seize control in 1814. Malta remains under the British Commonwealth, but enjoys independent nation status.
The Sator Square has fascinated me for some time (chapter 12). It’s been around since Roman times and does have a connection to Constantine, but not quite the one I invented. What the five-worded palindrome means is unclear, but there is a connection to early Christians, the anagram letters forming Pater Noster, Our Father, with four left over for alpha and omega (chapter 26). That cannot be a coincidence. The five words can be found carved in a variety of places across Europe, and rings with the words on it can be bought (chapter 19).
The main theme of this novel centers on the origins of Christianity. The Council of Nicaea was the first great ecumenical gathering, called by Constantine the Great (chapters 27 and 63). Nothing but mystery surrounds its proceedings since there is only one account of what happened, which is minimal at best. Even the number of bishops who attended is in doubt, though the partial list of names in chapter 54 is accurate. What we do know is that several doctrinal disagreements were settled and a statement of belief was adopted, the Nicaean Creed, which is quoted exactly in chapter 59. That creed, with only slight modifications, remains today the Catholic Church’s main statement of purpose.
Constantine is regarded with great affection by the Roman Catholic Church. By the 4th century Christianity firmly existed, though it was stalled in persecution and pandemonium. Once he’d taken it under his wing, the emperor made many contributions to the new religion. Those included official sanction, privileges, money, and buildings. Among the countless churches he constructed are the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem and the first St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome.
It’s a fact that a banquet was held at the end of the Council of Nicaea where the emperor bestowed gifts on the bishops for them to take back to their individual churches. As to a document he may have presented to them, which the bishops supposedly signed—my Constitutum Constantini, Constantine’s Gift—that never happened. Religion is a concept created by humans and long used by humans for political advantage. That’s historical fact. That the ideas of original sin, heaven, hell, and the devil were church creations is accurate. And before you reject that statement as fantasy, consider what Pope Francis said in March 2018. When asked about hell and what happens to a sinner’s soul, the pope said, They are not punished, those who repent obtain the forgiveness of God and enter the rank of souls who contemplate him, but those who do not repent and cannot therefore be forgiven disappear. There is no hell, there is the disappearance of sinful souls.
Quite a statement from the head of over a billion Catholics. Shortly after those words were published in La Repubblica, a leading Italian newspaper, the Vatican issued a statement claiming the article was “not a faithful transcript” and that the meeting between Pope Francis and the writer was private and not a formal interview.
But there was no categorical denial that they were said.
What many consider sacred church dogma, with divine origins, has a much more concrete and practical basis. The problem is we know precious little about the early Catholic Church and what its founding fathers actually did. What we do know is primarily thanks to one man. Eusebius, who lived during Constantine’s time. He wrote so many treatises that he’s come to be called the father of church history. He was also a close adviser of the emperor, and many of Eusebius’s works have survived. His Ecclesiastical History remains a vital source material on the early church. His Life of Constantine is regarded as an important work but is clearly skewed by his love for the emperor.
How much of his accounts are true?
Nobody knows.
Such doubts also apply to another quotation attributable to Pope Francis, as detailed in the book’s epigraph and chapter 5. There are many different versions out there, understandable given their controversial nature. Some say the variations were created by the Vatican, after the original statement was uttered, in an attempt to defuse their obvious implications and add confusion to authenticity. Again, nobody knows. Still, the comments, in any form, are odd for a pope. In closing, consider them once again:
It is not necessary to believe in God to be a good person.
In a way, the traditional notion of God is outdated.
One can be spiritual, but not religious.
It is not necessary to go to church and give money.
For many, nature can be a church.
Some of the best people in history did not believe in God,
while some of the worst deeds were done in his name.