Chapter Sixty-Five
Sam smiled as he listened to a not so brief history of Michel De Nostradamus. Zara spoke with the alacrity and knowledge of a person who’d dedicated her life to a certain pursuit of understanding, and had now been given free rein to impart that information to an eager and willing audience of one. In the light blue haze of his DARPA thermal suit, her gaze appeared intense. Next to him, Tom, true to his word, had already dried himself, switched his own thermal suit off to conserve battery life, and was sound asleep. Zara said, “Michel De Nostradamus began writing his prophecies as a series of elaborate puzzles, ranging in varying levels of intellectual difficulties. Historians believe he made a fortune by appealing to people of all ages and intelligence by providing riddles inside riddles in his strange rhymes known as quatrains. He quickly found a following of people who struggled for days upon days for hints and clues about the true meanings of his strange quatrains.”
“So he was a charlatan,” Sam said. “Albeit, a very entertaining one?”
“No. I believe now he did see the future, but in an attempt to avoid being identified as a heretic and burned to death by the Inquisition, Nostradamus wrote in a series of codes. He removed names, or changed them so much that even the main subjects of the truth could not be interfered with.”
“So he made stuff up?” he persisted.
Zara smiled. She’d heard the arguments before. She’d even made many of them. “Names were changed, dates were changed, words rewritten. By the late 1550s Les Prophecies was one of the most widely distributed and read books in the world. They were written in no chronological order, and in many parts appeared more gibberish than anything of real logic and substance. I now wonder if he had another reason, altogether, for why he wrote in such a confusing way.”
Sam asked, “Such as?”
“What if Nostradamus could only receive small parts of his vision. Like tiny clips of a film of the future. What if he wrote them in the order that he viewed them?”
Sam asked, “You think he really did see the future?”
“Yes. I do now. And if that is the case, then Nostradamus was telling the truth all this time and he could really see the future. Logic suggests that math, if applied correctly, may be able to rearrange the order of the prophecies until they form a clear and chronological description of that future.”
Sam interrupted. “Okay, let’s start a bit earlier. How did Nostradamus come to have these visions in the first place?”
She asked, “You want to hear it all?”
Sam nodded.
Zara began at the beginning. “Michel de Nostradame was born in the south of France in Saint-Remy-de-Provence. He was one of nine children to Reyniere de St-Remy, and her husband Jaume de Nostradame, a well-to-do grain dealer and part-time notary of Jewish dissent. Nostradame’s grandfather, Guy Gassonet, had converted to Catholicism a half century earlier and changed the family name to Nostradame, in part to avoid persecution during the Inquisition.” She paused for a moment. “A little too much information?”
Sam smiled, patiently. “No. I'm keen to discover what it was about Nostradamus that led us to arrive at our current veneration of a fortune teller.”
Her white teeth shined in the blue light with enthusiasm as she spoke. “Little is known of his childhood, but evidence indicates he was very intelligent as he quickly advanced through school. Early in his life, he was tutored by his maternal grandfather, Jean de St. Remy, who saw great intellect and potential in his grandson. During this time, young Nostradame was taught the rudiments of Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and mathematics. It is believed that his grandfather also introduced him to the ancient rights of Jewish tradition and the celestial science of astrology, giving Nostradame his first exposure to the idea of the heavens and how they drive human destiny.”
Sam studied her face. “Go on.”
“At the age of fourteen, Nostradame entered the University of Avignon to study medicine. He was forced to leave after only one year due to an outbreak of the bubonic plague. According to his own account, he traveled throughout the countryside during this time, researching herbal remedies and working as an apothecary. In 1522 he entered the University of Montpelier to complete his doctorate in medicine. He sometimes expressed dissension with the teachings of the Catholic priests, who dismissed his notions of astrology. There are some reports that university officials discovered his previous experience as an apothecary and found this to be reason enough to expel him from school. Evidently the school took a dim view of anyone who was involved in what was considered a manual trade. However, most accounts state he was not expelled and received license to practice medicine in 1525. At this time he Latinized his name — as was the custom of many medieval academics — from Nostradame to Nostradamus. From there, life became difficult for Michel.”
Sam said, “The Great Plague took hold of Europe, before igniting the Renaissance.”
“Exactly. Nostradamus was probably the most renowned Plague Doctor. He recommended his patients to drink only boiled water, to sleep in clean beds and to leave infected towns as soon as it was possible. Over the next several years, Nostradamus traveled throughout France and Italy, treating victims of the plague. There was no known remedy at the time; most doctors relied on potions made of mercury, the practice of bloodletting, and dressing patients in garlic-soaked robes. Nostradamus had developed some very progressive methods for dealing with the plague. He didn’t bleed his patients, instead practicing effective hygiene and encouraging the removal of the infected corpses from city streets. He became known for creating a Rose Pill, an herbal lozenge made of rosehips, rich in Vitamin C that provided some relief for patients with mild cases of the plague. His cure rate was impressive, though much can be attributed to keeping his patients clean, administering low-fat diets, and providing plenty of fresh air. In time, Nostradamus found himself somewhat of a local celebrity for his treatments and received financial support from many of the citizens of Provence. In 1531, he was invited to work with a leading scholar of the time, Jules-Cesar Scaliger in Agen, in southwestern France. There he married and in the next few years, had two children. In 1534, his wife and children died — presumably of the plague — while he was traveling on a medical mission to Italy. Not being able to save his wife and children caused him to fall out of favor in the community and with his patron, Scaliger.”
“Not a very good Seer if he couldn’t save his wife and kids,” Sam said.
Zara nodded. “In 1538, an offhanded remark about a religious statue resulted in charges of heresy against Nostradamus. When ordered to appear before the Inquisition, he wisely chose to leave Provence to travel for several years throughout Italy, Greece and Turkey. During his travels to the ancient mystery schools, it is believed that Nostradamus experienced a psychic awakening.”
“How?”
“He used to spend hours staring into a bowl filled with water and herbs until he had trance-like visions.” Zara continued. “Feeling he’d stayed away long enough to be safe from the Inquisition, Nostradamus returned to France to resume his practice of treating plague victims. In 1547, he settled in his home-town of Salon-de-Provence and married a rich widow named Anne Ponsarde. Together they had six children — three boys and three girls. Nostradamus also published two books on medical science by this time. One was a translation of Galen, the Roman physician, and a second book, Les Traite des Fardemens, was a medical cookbook for treating the plague and the preparation of cosmetics.”
“He sounded more like a man of science than a writer of creative fiction.” Sam focused on her face and asked, “How did he come to write puzzles?”