Poison! Just the word would cause a medieval citizen of Constantinople to cast a furtive glance into his or her cup. Almost all the poisons available to the people of the Middle Ages were derived from plants. Not all who were suspected of dying of poison, necessarily did so, but it is a testament to how common it was and much the danger was ever present on the mind of especially upper class Byzantines.
John I Tzimiskes, step-father to Emperors Basil II and his brother Constantine VIII, was suspected of having succumbed to poison, at the hands of Imperial Chamberlain Basil Lakepenos in a bid to keep from losing Lakepenos’ ill-gotten gains, but historians have found no proof of this. Nor has any evidence been found to support the contemporary belief that Basil II’s mother Theophano poisoned his father Romanos II. Nevertheless, the possibility of poison was ever present in the mind of the aristocracy.
A well-mixed poison could be bought from an apothecary, but it was just as easily obtainable from any well-stocked herb garden. The apothecary was somewhere on the blurred lines between a shop-keeper and a medical professional. The most readily obtainable poisons were aconite, hellbore, henbane, nightshade, and hemlock, to which I will also add the poison obtained from a non-plant source, an insect – Spanish Fly, referenced in The Well of Urd as “blister beetle”. Please keep in mind this is for educational purposes only, Under no circumstances should you ever consume any of these substances, nor attempt to treat yourself in case of accidental ingestion!
Of the ones we will talk about in this series, most notorious is Aconitum, among many other names also known as Monk’s Hood, Wolfsbane (for its reputation in poisoning wolves) and Queen of Poisons. It belongs to the family Ranunculaceae, including over 250 species. The Byzantines would have been very familiar with this deadly poison, dubbing it lykotonon — “wolf slaying”. Historically, Cleopatra VII of Egypt was said to have poisoned her brother Ptolemy XIV with aconite. In classical mythology, the sorceress Medea attempted to have king Aegeus unwittingly kill his own son, Theseus with a cup poisoned with aconite. It is said to have sprung from the spittle of Cerberus, famed three-headed dog of Greek myth. Even touching this deadly plant, especially the roots, can gain you an unpleasant death.
Death from aconite is slow and painful, though with large doses, death can be almost instantaneous as in a scene from the second book in the Varangian Trilogy. In The Well of Urd the courtesan Cyra attempts to poison Theophana, the wife of the Doux of Antioch, with a cosmetic cream of aconite and blister beetle When her ruse is discovered, a the chamberlain Aleksandr forces the apothecary, Ignatios who sold her the poisons to drink the aconite himself:
Aleksandr slammed the door shut again. “The aconite sweetens your blood already,” he said softly. “Have you ever seen anyone die from the aconite that you so laboriously prepared, Ignatios? First comes the burning of your fingers and toes. You grow mad because it seems as if a myriad of insects crawl beneath you skin. Your vision blurs and you can no longer see anything clearly in front of you. Then you will sweat though you can never grow warm. You will thirst, but no amount of wine or water will ever quench the dryness in your mouth. If you have drunk an especially efficacious mixture, mixed at your own hand, distilled from most potent roots gathered at their season’s height, you will soon find your heart does not beat rhythmically. All the world slows, in your perception, but the world goes on as before.” He knelt by the side of Ignatios. “It is only your heart that slows.” Ignatios retched and vomited on the floor. Aleksandr rose to his feet, looking down speculatively on the dying man, thrashing about in his own vomit. He tilted his head. “Ahh, it is I thought. Aconite takes away the powers of speech before it closes the eyes. What a shame. I should like to have heard your final words.” Ignatios’ hands curled like claws, grasping at the viridian marble floor. Spittle and bloody vomit trailed from the corner of his mouth.
As with many toxic plants that were used for nefarious purposes, they also had their place in healing, though only by those who were very certain of what they were doing. Nicander of Colophon, a Greek poet of the second century BCE, illuminates Aconite in his Theriaca, cautioned that its pharmaceutical properties are best left alone. Those who utilized poison were sure to agree with the Swiss physician and alchemist, Paracelsus who said, “All things are poison and nothing is without poison; only the dose makes a thing not a poison.” Next time I will explore another well known toxic plant – henbane!
Sources:
A Modern Herbal by Mrs. M Grieve
Greek Fire, Poison Arrows, and Scorpion Bombs: Biological & Chemical Warfare By Adrienne Mayor
Poisons & Antidotes by T.L. Stedman M.D.
Deadly Doses: A Writer’s Guide to Poisons by Anne Klarner and Serita Stevens