medieval

the strange medieval epidemic that paralyzed Europe for two centuries

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At some point in the late 14th century, Charles VI of France stopped moving. Not because of paralysis or fear of his enemies, but because he was convinced that his body was made of glass, and that any touch could shatter it. It was not an isolated case. Those affected by this collective delusion believed that all or part of their body was made of glass. The phenomenon has its own name in the history of psychiatry: the crystal delirium. And his story says disturbing things about how the sick mind always speaks the language of its time. Charles VI, nicknamed El Loco for whatever he may be Charles VI inherited the French throne in 1380, aged eleven. When he turned twenty, he removed his corrupt uncles from power and restored stability to the kingdom’s finances. The people called him le Bien-Aiméthe Beloved. Twelve years later, his definitive nickname would be different: le Fou, the Fool. In August 1392, during a military campaign towards Brittany, the king (23 years old at the time) was riding through the forest of Le Mans when a page dropped a spear. The metallic roar was enough to trigger a violent crisis: Carlos attacked his own knights and killed four before being subdued. It was the first of dozens of episodes that would accompany him until his death in 1422. Pope Pius II wrote that there were times when Carlos believed he was made of glassand that was why he tried to protect himself in multiple ways to avoid breaking, going so far as to have iron rods sewn into his clothes. Something else happened shortly after the onset of the crystalline delirium. In January 1393, the king and several nobles attended a party disguised as “wild men,” wearing linen suits covered in pitch and branches. An errant spark ignited a costume and the fire spread among the men. Only the king and another companion escaped alive, in an event that inspired Edgar Allan Poe to write his macabre story ‘Hop-Frog’. The event went down in history as the Bal des Ardentsthe Dance of the Burning Men. Whether or not that trauma accelerated his mental deterioration is something that historians still debate. When his crises took hold of him, Carlos became a different man: He could sit still for hours and, if he moved, he did so with extreme caution. This had a tremendous political cost: the monarch instability It weakened the French court and allowed rival factions to vie for power, exacerbating the challenges France faced in the midst of the Hundred Years’ War with England. In 1415 his troops were crushed at Agincourt, and in 1420 he signed the Treaty of Troyes, by which he disinherited his own son. The crystal generation Charles VI was, according to historian Gill Speak probably the first documented case of someone believing their entire body was made of glass. But he was far from the only one. The first medical text that records delirium as a recognizable condition dates from 1561, work of the Dutch doctor Levinus Lemnius. The phenomenon belonged to a broader category called “scholar’s melancholy”, an ailment that mainly affected men of letters and nobles from the 15th to 17th centuries. The documented cases are as extravagant as they are revealing. A man was convinced that his buttocks were made of glass and that sitting down would make them burst, so he avoided leaving the house in case a glazier tried to melt it to turn it into a window. Another traveled to Murano, the Italian island famous for its glass, with the intention of throwing himself into a furnace and being transformed into a glass. Engraving of ‘The Stained Glass Licensed’ A third nobleman (always unemployed people, the core issue of the topic) believed he was a glass vessel and spent the day lying on a bed of straw. His doctor ordered the bed to be set on fire with the door closed: when the nobleman pounded on the door asking for help, the doctor asked why it had not shattered with so much fuss. The cure was brutal but, apparently, effective. Transparent glass was not, in the 15th century, an everyday occurrence. It was in that century when the Venetian glassmaker Angelo Barovier invented the cristalloa clear, colorless glass that was extraordinarily rare and was seen by many as something almost magical. Before this innovation, neuroses were different: men who believed they were made of clay and later, in the 19th century, people who believed they were made of cement. The content of delusions reflects the culture of each moment: glass was a new material and therefore became the object of delusions. Glass, specifically, offered transparency: being made of glass meant being precious and fragile, a form of grandeur and isolation at the same time. Miguel de Cervantes published ‘El licensed Vidriera’, one of his ‘Exemplary Novels’, in 1613. The protagonist, Tomás Rodaja, is a brilliant and poor student who, after ingesting a love potion, is convinced that his body is made of glass due to the delicacy and subtlety of the material, with an admirable and delirious internal logic. It is a clear sign that delirium has its corresponding literature at the time: Robert Burton cataloged the phenomenon in ‘Anatomy of Melancholy’ (1621) as a symptom of melancholy, and Descartes, in his ‘Meditations on First Philosophy’ (1641), used the “glass man” as an example of madness to distinguish his own philosophical doubts from the delusions of a sick brain. In Xataka | The Middle Ages have a reputation for being a dark period. Until you discover the names they had for their pets

In the 70s Álava left an entire town under its airport. What I didn’t know was that it was hiding a treasure of 5,000 medieval coins.

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He Vitoria airport It may not be the largest, the best connected or the busiest in the country, but it stands out for the volume of merchandise it moves. Last month it exceeded 5,400 tonswhich consolidates it as Aena’s fourth busiest aerodrome, only behind Barajas, El Prat and Zaragoza. If the Alava terminal works, moving cargo, planes and hundreds of thousands of passengers, it is thanks to an old village that ended up buried in the 70s: Otaza. The most curious thing is that he did it with a hidden medieval treasure. The price of growing. In the 1970s, Álava businessmen found themselves with a dilemma. If they wanted to continue growing, they needed better connections, regular flights that would allow them to reach the rest of the metropolises in Spain and Europe. They had the Salburua airfieldinaugurated in 1935, but it did not seem like the best solution, so the technicians had to look for alternatives. And they found her. After evaluating several locations in the region, such as Ullibarri Arrazua. Salvatierra or Zurbano concluded that the best solution was to set up a new aircraft facility on the land of the town of Foronda. A work in record time. The project had the support of the Provincial Council and moved forward with astonishing speed. At least for the deadlines that infrastructures the size of an airport usually handle today. The construction of the aerodrome was approved in 1972 and in 1976 Civil Aviation gave its OK to the first phase. The works, remember The Mailinvolved the construction of a 2,200 x 45 m flight runway, in addition to the operating systems. The work (and procedures) continued to advance at a good pace during the following years. In 1978, the institutional machinery was launched to contract the control tower, accesses and urbanization and just two years later (the January 30, 1980) the ministry officially opened Vitoria Airport to national and international passenger traffic. In April of that same year Iberia inaugurated one of its most important lines, the one that exalts it with Madrid. Sew and sing, right? Not at all. The construction of the terminal encountered a problem: the proximity of a small village that ended up being located 370 meters from the runway. His name: Otaza. The population had a long history and it even had its own church, but it was not what is said to be very populous. It is estimated that at the beginning of the 19th century it hosted only about thirty of people, more or less what there were in 1974, when according to The Mail 26 neighbors lived there. The Álava authorities were therefore faced with a dilemma: What should take priority, the new airfield or a village with a handful of families? And the pickaxe arrived. The expropriation was not what is called simple. Not all the neighbors willingly agreed to leave their homes and in fact there were a few ‘numantinos’ (not many, it is true) who did not leave until the end. Their efforts did not prevent the bulldozers from taking Otaza away. In October 1979, the regional press reported how, after a break and despite not yet having reached a total agreement with the neighbors, the authorities had resumed the demolition work. The Bishopric had fewer objections, which reached an agreement that allowed the village temple to be demolished. The pickaxe had to work little. A few days later, on November 2, the demolition was completed. A town to remember. That was the end of Otaza. Although in its day the town had welcomed dozens of people, had a church and services, the expropriation of the land and the demolition works sealed its fate. Shortly after completing the works, the authorities agreed the disappearance of the council, which is now part of Astegieta. However, as EITB recalls, it was not the only town affected by the works on the new terminal. Antezana of Foronda He also paid a ‘toll’ for Álava to have its own flights. One last surprise. Otaza’s story could have ended there if it weren’t for the fact that shortly after his ‘death’, in April 1980, a family decided to take a walk through the grounds. During the walk, as they passed near the church of San Emeterio and San Celedonio, they found a jar with coins. The piece caught their attention enough to report it to the authorities, who confirmed that it was a curious treasure: more than 5,000 coins of copper and silver minted during the reigns of Alfonso I of Aragon and Alfonso VIIIbetween the 12th and 13th centuries. Today it is known as “the treasure of Otaza”. Images | WikipediaGoogle Earth and Mikelo (Flickr) In Xataka | Barajas needed to improve its roads but a baroque hermitage made it complicated. Solution: put it in a roundabout

In medieval Europe, not only humans ended up on the gallows. Other criminals were also executed: the “murderer” pigs

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For centuries, medieval Europe It was a place where justice was dispensed not only in the courts, but in the squares, in full view of everyone, with public rituals designed to repair order when someone broke it in an intolerable way. At that time, the fear of the unforeseeable did not come only from armies, plagues or famines, but also from what moved through the streets and corrals. In the France Medieval times, for example, the public ritual of punishment (carriage amidst mockery, solemn sentence and execution before the community) did not always have a human as the protagonist: sometimes, the condemned was a pig. The image, which today seems like an oddity from a black chronicle or a folkloric exaggeration, was real enough to leave repeated documentary traces: animals led as prisoners, hung upside down until they died and treated, in practice, as perpetrators responsible for a crime that had broken the social balance. The pig as a real threat The frequency of these cases is better understood by remembering that the medieval world lived attached to animals and their risks. Pigs, in particular, were useful because they ate everything and could feed on scraps, but that same omnivorous condition made them dangerous if they roamed free near small children. The records collect numerous episodes in which pigs killed and even devoured children, a violence that today clashes with the modern image of the docile and slow animal, but which was then associated with specimens closest to the wild boar: fast, strong and capable of imposing themselves physically in seconds. Medieval archives collect cases like the one from 1379when a group of pigs in Saint-Marcel-lès-Jussey killed the son of a swineherd, or the from 1386 in FalaiseNormandy, where a sow destroyed a child who ended up dying. Also that of 1457 in Savigny, Burgundywhen little Jehan Martin was killed by a sow and, especially disturbingly, his six piglets were found nearby, stained with blood. They were not vague rumors, but stories that were fixed with names and placesand that fueled the need for a public response that was not limited to a simple private loss. In France, these events often led to in judicial proceedings formalities in which the animal was imprisoned, transferred and executed as if it were a common criminal. Sources talk about expenses registered normally (cart, prison, executioner even brought from Paris) and an administrative routine that suggests that, for the people of that time, it was not an absurd spectacle, but a legitimate mechanism of justice. The strangeness, therefore, was not that there was violence, but rather that the violence was channeled through a trial with the appearance of ordinary procedure. When money is not enough A practical explanation of these processes was that medieval justice tended to seek reconciliation between partiesand many disputes could be resolved with compensation or agreements. But when a child death came into the picture, that logic was broken: the damage was too serious and the money could be insufficient to close the social wound. In that context, the court intervened to “take control” of the conflict, separate it from private revenge and offer an institutional solution that would distribute the emotional and political burden of the outcome. Trials also functioned as a form of organize the story: It was not just about punishing the animal, but about clarifying human responsibilities. If a pig was known for being dangerouswhy was he allowed to loiter near children? Was there negligence on the part of the owner? a chain of negligence? There was even a suggestion of the possibility of darkest questions: if the child was “unwanted”, if he or she was deliberately left in a risky situation or if the accident hid an intention. The court, by intervening, not only imposed a penalty, it produced an official explanation that the community could accept. Sometimes, the local machinery was not the last word and the matter escalated towards higher authorities. In the case of 1379, some of the accused pigs belonged to an abbey, and from there a petition was sent to Duke Philip “the Bold” requesting clemency. They defended that their animals had not participated and that they were “well-behaved pigs.” The duke heeded the request and issued a pardon for the animals of the abbey, showing that these processes, strange as they may seem, were inserted in real networks of power, influences and political decisions. Far from being simple superstition or peasant rage, these executions could serve to assert authority. The right to erect a gallows and execute criminals it was a privilegeand taking a case to the end allowed a local lord to exhibit the ability to punish and control order. There are episodes that reinforce that reading: a pig murderer from the 15th century it remained imprisoned five years before being executed, and formal letters were sent for permission to build a gallows. When the duke finally agreed, the triumph was not only symbolic: in addition to showing power, the lord stopped carrying the practical cost of keeping the animal imprisoned and feeding it. Plus: another key is the medieval vision of reality as a logical system created by godwith animals destined to serve humans. For a pig to devour a child was an unbearable investment of that order, a rupture of hierarchies that demanded public reparation. In that mental framework, the trial and execution were not theater: they were a way of “putting back together” what had been broken, of affirming that the world still had rules and that chaos, even when it came from an animal, could be put back into place by a solemn act of justice. Image | Ernest Figueras, Zoe Clarke In Xataka | The Middle Ages were not as dark as they told us In Xataka | 900 years ago, Europe had its own Manhattan: the impressive skyscrapers of more than 100 meters of Bologna

In case we didn’t have enough of the wedding fever, medieval weddings are coming

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In Yorkshire it smells like wax and fresh bread. Olivia Healy walks slowly down the aisle of a stone church; The golden crown she wears shines in the flickering light of the candles. There are no spotlights or screens, just an iron arch, a few caped guests, and a reverend who smiles before saying, “Welcome to the 12th century.” It is not the filming of a movie, but a wedding inspired by the medieval ceremonies that were celebrated in England eight hundred years ago. There are minstrelsy, a feast of mead and rye bread, and a vow of union that does not mention God, but “the light that unites the paths of the ancients.” According to The New York Timesscenes like this are repeated in half the world: searches for “medieval wedding” on Pinterest have skyrocketed by more than 400%, and castles have become the new fantasy setting for a generation that flees from conventional weddings. A ritual with purpose. What started as an eccentric niche has become a cultural trend. “Couples are looking for a more symbolic type of ceremony, less commercial and more connected to ancient rites,” explains art historian Nancy Thebaut. It is not just an aesthetic—capes, veils, chalices, robes—but a way of understanding love and commitment as something timeless. Some of the most talked about weddings of the year followed that thread. Artist Harley Weir, known for her ethereal portraits, married in a welsh monastery dressed in a tunic inspired by the novices of the 15th century. As well as actress Rainey Qualley opted for a lace corset and hand-embroidered cape in Italian silk, “like a Pre-Raphaelite queen lost in a digital dream.” In all cases, the pattern is the same: ritual, nature, spirituality. Instead of speeches or photocallsthere are processions with incense, sacred music, mystical readings and vows inspired by Celtic or early Christian ceremonies. The phenomenon goes beyond the disguise. This return to the past, according to the New York Timesaddresses an interpretation of “nostalgia for purposeful rituals”: a way of recovering the symbolic in times where the religious has been diluted. For the fashion magazine Vogue, which has documented Gothic and medieval weddings in Irish castles or Welsh monasteries, what is sought is not historical accuracy, but an emotional aesthetic. The medium calls it “epic romanticism”: a cross between the sacred, the theatrical and the intimate. The art historian Harriet Sonne de Torrens remember that in medieval manuscripts The gesture of joining hands represented mutual surrender and divine blessing. Eight centuries later, that same image is redefined: the symbol remains, although its meaning is secular. From historical rigor to pop romanticism. Not to nitpick, but most of these celebrations are not historically accurate—nor do I think they intend to be. “People confuse medieval with Renaissance, Gothic or even Victorian,” explains The New York Times. But that mix is ​​part of its appeal: today’s medieval weddings They are less a recreation of the past than a pop rereading of history. The success of series like game of Thrones either The Witcher, and even the literary rise of authors such as Sarah J. Maas or the anthological The Lord of the Ringshave consolidated a global aesthetic of the medieval-fantastic, which has filtered into fashion, music and, now, marriage. This medieval fever is not alone. In parallel, thematic weddings are growing: ceremonies that recreate entire worlds—from the 1920s to the Tolkien universe—as a form of aesthetic affirmation. According to Bodas.netmore than 30% of young couples in Spain opt for personalized and symbolic rituals, with their own scripts and narrative scenarios. In times of liquid loves, the ritual matters again. In the digital age, couples look for meaning in ancient symbols. Looking to the past has become a way of recovering intention and intimacy—what the New York media has defined as “a nostalgia for purposeful rituals.” And there opens up an interesting connection.. Because this fascination with the sacred is not limited to the symbolic altars of weddings. Religion—or at least its imagery—has once again become a transversal aesthetic language: from fashion to pop. Rosalía is the most notable example. As my colleague explains in Xataka“the artist has swerved towards Catholic iconography. It is not a whim or a marketing maneuver, but rather swimming in a very favorable current at the moment: the modern and youthful vindication of the faith.” This current is not a return to dogma, but a search for transcendence. Both Rosalía and medieval weddings, the sacred becomes aesthetic; the ritual, in performance. Candles, veils or liturgical choirs are gestures of a visual spirituality, more emotional than doctrinal. “Brides are attracted to historical references because they evoke permanence; it is a way of promising eternity in liquid times,” says designer Paula Nadal. My dear Spain. And, as almost always, here we take it to the next level. In Navia (Asturias), a couple got married this summer during the Medieval Days of the municipality, escorted by Knights Templar and bagpipers. In Burgos, several estates and castles—such as Sotopalacios or Belmonte— They already offer “historical ceremonies” with a mead menu, troubadours and photographers who work only with natural light to imitate the painterly texture of the Quattrocento. In networks, the Spanish “medieval core” mixes layers, baroque virgins and processions with a fervor that, according to Telva“can only be understood in a country that turned Holy Week into performative art.” In a way, medieval weddings are the secular reflection of that same religious theatricality that Spain carries in its blood: a liturgy without faith, but with emotion. A ritual in uncertain times? The trend points to the same thing: couples do not flee from the present, but rather look for a symbolic language. What we know is that in 12th century manuscripts, marriage was a sacrament; in the networks of 2025, it is an aesthetic. But the gesture remains the same. Between the digital noise and the contemporary rush, returning to the 12th century is just a way—I hope—to promise the same thing as always: that … Read more

The walls of a medieval church of Álava hid figures of wild boars, turkeys and discs. No one knows what they do there

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Cruces, Statues of saints, fresh with biblical scenes, representations of the Virgin Mary or the apostles, even devil figures twisting. Within a church one expects to find a wide range of Christian imagery, but when A few years ago Historians began to clean the oldest wall of The Church of ArbuloIn Álava, they found something very different. Under layers and layers of lime and paint began to appear something other: figures of the 12th century that show mysterious quadrupeds with claws, faced birds and wheels. Now the experts They wonder What the hell do they mean. In a place in Álava … More specifically in Arbulo, in the municipality of Elburghe stands An ancient church in honor of San Martín de Tours. Most of the temple we see today rose between End of the fifteenth century and the beginning of the XVI, but its builders left the remains of a previous building, from the Romanesque era. Despite its historical value over time the Church ended in a dilapidated state. At the end of the XX its roof deteriorated and began to leak water through the vaults, which among other things ended up the furniture. Rescue Restorers. The temple situation was so critical that it was closed Between 1999 and 2008 and by 2004 a restoration was launched that included the disenchanted of the walls. The specialists had good reasons to do so. As remember Historian Gorka López de Munain, from the University of the Basque Country (UPV), moisture forced to remove the altarpiece and disagree with the walls of the apse, which left the layers of paint accumulated over the centuries, including what seemed “strange motifs of reddish hue.” What kind of paintings? The experts appreciated several layers on the walls, but there was a specific one that caught so much the attention of López de Munain that he decided to dedicate A broad article in Of half avo. Which? The first, located in the Apsid wall and that in the absence of more detailed analysis the researcher date between the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, so it is associated with the primitive Romanesque temple. Today we know that their author (or authors) traced them using ocher pigments mixed with binder and that they did not remain too exposed. Before the XV they were already covered with a new layer of lime. And the big surprise arrived. The most curious thing is not, however, with what pigments were prepared, but what they were used for. In a Christian temple one would expect to meet symbols associated with that creed: crosses, representations of Christ and the Virgin, biblical scenes … not on the wall of the Church of Arbulo. Over there, In words of the UPV teacher, what appeared were representations of animals and geometric shapes “in a seemingly random disposition.” In a wide surface, of just over 24 square meters (m2), experts found remains that at origin had to decorate the head of the primitive church and have bullow the curiosity and imagination of historians. “In this first layer, reasons of great variety and formal wealth were painted: swine -siled quadr The article of Of half avowhich recognizes that the figures of the absidal wall of the Church of Arbulu “do not respond to the best known repertoires of their time.” “Something unexpected”. López de Munain is not the only one to which the images of the temple have surprised. In 2018, in An interview With eitb.eus, Isabel Mellén, of the project ‘Medieval Álava’, I recognized His enthusiasm. “What was painted, in our eyes, is something unexpected. What we hope to find in a church are religious paintings, with Christian scenes or symbology, but what is shown in Arbulo has nothing to do with all that,” collects the analysis of the Basque chain. Instead of pantocradors or crosses What they show The walls of the temple with thick strokes and reddish tones are beasts: birds, animals with pigs or wild boars, discs with radios, asterisk shape of lis flowers drawn with basic and rough lines … a peculiar iconography that leaves a question as fascinating as difficult to answer: What do you mean exactly? Questioning the story. From the outset and after clarifying how difficult it is to interrogate the images in search of meanings with the eyes of the 21st century, the researcher slides an idea: at least part of the figures seem to reveal a funeral connotation. For example, among the images rescued in Arbulo there are real turkeys, a recurring theme throughout the Middle Ages, loaded with polysemy and has been used regularly in mortuary contexts. “The fated birds painted in Arbulu inevitably evoke those that drink together of a crater or peck a cluster of grapes, common in the steles and romantic and very frequent tombst Point out The Basque researcher, who recognizes in any case that in the images of Arbulu the birds do not appear with other icons, such as drinks, so “its nature is difficult to identify” and “elusive”. Are there more meanings? Yes. In his analysis the researcher pays attention to other elements that have emerged on the Arbulu wall, such as eight radios albums. “Those wheels or radiated stars appear frequently in the discoude steles of both the Basque Country and of nearby regions,” Slide. Its meaning is also suggestive and invites you to look, rather than consecration crosses, to designs that can often be seen in medieval funeral steles. The tree figures have also led him to slide the hypothesis that they can be linked to the paintings of a historical character, Gastea de Arburu, of Gallic origin but buried in the region. But … why? The big question. Why paint a Christian temple with birds, solar disks and quadrupeds with claws, some with the appearance of wild boars? In An interview with The country López de Munain slides some theories, such as their creators wanted to represent on the walls what they saw in their most immediate environment or … Read more

Barcelona began to excavate to build a parking. Ended up discovering a medieval ship of 10 my and uncertain origin

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His intention was to build a new parking, but the team in charge of the works of the Ciutadella del Coneixementin Barcelona, ​​has ended up doing something very different: finding an archaeological finding that has already captured the interest of the historians of the Catalan capital. And it’s normal. What technicians have located under the ground of the city, to five meters Under the sea level, it is neither more nor less than a medieval long -won over 10 meters long and three wide. The first studies estimate that the boat dates from the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries, but questions are left to answer. What happened? That the Barcelona subsoil has just given a surprise (and a joy) to historians. Another one. A few weeks ago, during the construction works of the future Parking of the BSM in the Ciutadella del Coneixement, archaeologists located the remains of a ship that, according to the first estimates, would date from the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries. It is not the first once the work on the site of the old Mercat del Peix brought to light remains of historical interest, but as Recognize The Archeology Service of the Barcelona City Council is “exceptional”. Good proof is that the town hall has launched A statement (and a wide image gallery) to value the wreck and team of archaeologists in charge of documenting the remains has spoken with the means to clear some doubts. What have you discovered? The “partial remains Of a sunk ship “, a boat that ended up wafraling or abandoned and priori (already waiting for her to advance her study), experts have dated between the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. To be more precise, during their investigation, archaeologists have found a structure formed by thirty notebooks and part of the wooden pieces that covered the exterior of the fuselage. In total the pec ten meters long for just over three wide. “The tables are nailed in the notebooks with circular section timber, a kind of wooden nails that served to join the parts. Two longitudinal pieces set with iron nails are also preserved,” details The City Council Archeology Service. In the world’s surroundings, very fertile sand and alms have also been located that include “organic remains” of interest, such as hazelnut seeds or even pineapple remains. Do we know anything else? In addition to date it around the fifteenth and sixteenth, experts They point that the construction style of the ship was common in the Mediterranean medieval and extended throughout Europe from the mid -XV. They are however Some questions for responding, as its exact origin or what function I played. To clear some of those unknowns archaeologists are also investigating the remains of seeds and alms that surround the wreck. What will happen to him? The City Council He has stressed The importance of the finding because it is “a unique source of knowledge” on navigation and naval construction techniques that were used in the Barcelona of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. However, not everything is in his favor. The remains are found in a “very fragile state of conservation”, which forces experts to be cautious. To prevent the soaked from drying and degraded by being exposed to the weather, the technicians have partially kept it with the sand that has been used for centuries. The objective of the Archeology Service of Barcelona and the Archaeological Museum of Catalonia is now to document the remains and “guarantee the conservation” of the wreck, which has already been baptized as ‘Citadel I’. “The first actions have included three -dimensional documentation works, the marking of the pieces, the sampling and the preparation of the transfer in containers full of water that ensure the temporary conservation of the remains,” The Consistory requires. The materials will be transferred to “specialized facilities” so that they can treat them with water and hydrosoluble wax, a substance with which the structure is to be reinforced. What tells us about Barcelona? The wreck is not interesting only for the boat itself and what can be told about medieval navigation or naval. Another key is what can tell us about the development of Barcelona. After all, the remains appeared in the old Mercat del Peix, at a depth of more than five meters under sea level. Archaeologists have already They slid that its location can be related to the transformation of the maritime front. “The finding, which from a technical point of view is known as melter, is part of a historical context of transformation of the maritime front. From 1439, with the construction of the first artificial tenazes, the dynamics of the coastline was altered and the sand bar known as the task, which had protected the city for centuries” Clarify The City Council. In 2008 it was already located A similar ship near the station of France. Images | Barcelona’s Decrease In Xataka | We finally know what sailors ate at the high seas in the 16th century. Thanks to the CSIC and a sunk galeon

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