Tag: poison

Poison Apothecary Part Five

Not all deadly poisons available to the ancient poisoner came from plant sources. Cantharidin is a substance emitted from several species of the blister beetle, sometimes known as Spanish Fly. In The Well of Urd, the courtesan Cyra buys a vial of it and quietly pockets a vial of aconite, with the intention of placing both in a cosmetic cream for her intended target. From her conversation with the apothecary, it is clear this is not the first time she has made this purchase:

Only once had she purchased the scarlet bottle. She had sworn she never would again. Yet now she lifted her finger and pointed to it. His teeth flashed in a sardonic laugh. “Oho! Little Cyra seeks to lift the members of her male companions. If I recall that did not go so well last time you tried it. Perhaps you may wish to reconsider?” Nevertheless he pulled the little tear drop bottle from its resting place in the wooden rack next to its companions. “Blister beetle.” He chuckled and swirled the liquid around and watched the light catch the deep red of the bottle. “So many men so eager to try it. In low enough doses it make them stand as stiff and tall as a wooden post. They pleasure the ladies all night.” He leered at her. “And when they finally can come down, hours later, they spend days pissing blood. Is that not what happened to the vestarches you entertained last year?” He laughed when she grimaced. “It is over and done. He was a fool and should have known better. He was lucky. Some die from the elixir of the blister beetle. Yet you will purchase it again?”

Yet Cyra does purchase it again. With such a risk at ingesting it, what made anyone desparate enough to try it? Cathardin, is a burn agent, potent enough to cause the skin to raise in painful blisters and dangerous enough to actually burn the insides of those foolish enough to ingest it. The Marquis de Sade was reported to have been put on trial for the death of two prostitutes to whom he gave cathardin-laced pastilles. It was his intention that the prostitutes would fall into his amorous embrace due to the supposed aphrodisiac nature of the poisonous pastilles. Instead they both died agonizing deaths, hardly a sexy way to end the evening.

Due to the fact that is odorless and colorless it no doubt made a wonderful candidate for the repertoire of the especially fiendish poisoner. Because of the vesicating nature of the chemical, it was ideal to use dermally as well. This was the very plan Cyra had in mind as the cathardin would open up the skin, making way for the even deadlier aconite. Typically, it takes twenty-four to forty-eight hours for the blisters to emerge on the skin, eventually rupturing and leaving something akin to second degree burns.

330px-Lytta-vesicatoria

Taken internally, it literally burns the interior of the gastrointestinal and genitourinary tract. By those intending to use its doubtful aphrodisiac properties, the intention is to cause priapism of the penis, from genitourinary irritation engorging it with blood and serving as a sort of primitive Viagra. However, the intended erection turns out to be unpleasant and even painful and when finally flaccid, results in painful and bloody urination for some time after, assuming the unwary experimenter lives. There are many accounts of death from ingestion of catharidin. It was as feared as many of its more famous counterparts in poison. So much so that Byzantine law heavily regulated them. The Digest of Roman Law, compiled by the Eastern Roman Emperor Justinian in the 6th century CE, clearly states in regards to murders and poisoners:

It is laid down by another decree of the senate that dealers in cosmetics are liable to the penalties of this law (the Lex Cornelia on murderers and poisoners) if they recklessly hand over to anyone hemlock (cicuta), salamander, aconite, pine-worms (pitupcampae) [a caterpillar with extremely irritating hairs] or buprestis [a species of blister beetle], mandragora [mandrake] or, except for the purposes of purification, catharsis beetle.

Brackets mine for the purposes of clarification.

Whether such laws applied to every part of the empire, even in as far-flung areas as Roman occupied Antioch, my research failed to unearth. It is reasonable to assume that at the very least, apothecaries selling such substances would be wary that charges might be brought against them, should their merchandise happen to be the cause of death of anyone with litigious relatives. The one purchasing such items also had no guarantee that said items were everything an apothecary claimed they were. Then, as now, caveat emptor. The very real danger in cathardin as it is today, is that there is no antidote. Unlike poisons such as aconite which operate on the body with toxic alkaloids and therefore have an antidote, cathardin is corrosive and is akin to ingesting or touching battery acid. It destroys the tissues it comes in contact with. It is, as it was in Byzantine time, heavily regulated and for good reason. Few doctors in the U.S. use cathardin for wart and tattoo removal any longer, preferring salicylic acid and liquid nitrogen instead. Its use has almost been made a joke of in popular culture. But as we have seen, the blister beetle and its deadly elixir was certainly no joke at all.

Resources:

“BOOK FORTY-EIGHT.” In The Digest of Justinian, Volume 4, edited by WATSON ALAN, 309-77. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt3fh9jv.12.

Medical Toxicology of Natural Substances: Foods, Fungi, Medicinal Herbs, Plants and Venomous Animals by Donald G. Barceloux 2012

The American Dispensatory, Containing the Natural, Chemical and and Pharmaceutical and Medical History of Different Substances Employed in Medicine by John Redman Coxe 1831

Cantharidin. (2018, January 16). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 13:53, January 20, 2018, from https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Cantharidin&oldid=820699738

Poison Apothecary Part Four

Mention hemlock, and most people think of Socrates. He is perhaps the most famous death attributed to hemlock, being executed in 399 BCE on a charge of “impiety”. Hemlock (Conium maculatum) is in fact a member of the carrot family and of no relation to the coniferous tree of the same name. It is also known as warlock’s weed and winter fern. It is a native to North Africa and Europe and spread successfully around the world. When ingested (and it takes a surprisingly small amount to be effective) the main alkaloid in hemlock, coniine affect the central nervous system and the respiratory system.

In The Well of Urd, Theophana, the wife of the Doux of Antioch, verges on bragging as she briefly demonstrates her knowledge of the uses of poison and her employ of her personal poisoner:

Theophana scoffed. “She was found in my chambers by my steward, Aleksandr. And while I understand that a courtesan could not be expected to keep her filthy fingers off my cosmetic jars that she might be profligate with them for her own use,” she paused and took a sip of wine. “ I am no stranger to the secrets of poison. I am well familiar with all the apothecaries in the city. And I know the difference between a vial meant to scent and one meant to kill. I know the odors of hemlock, aconite and helllebore. I have my own poisoners and have no need of the services of the apothecary’s arts.”

Conium_maculatum_-_Köhler–s_Medizinal-Pflanzen-191

Like most poisonous herbs, hemlock has had a place medicine, with designs to heal instead of harm. With antispasmodic and sedative properties, it may hav been used in surgery in a day when access to general anesthetics was not available. Only a skilled practitioner knew the line that was the boundary between sedative and a lethal dose. And even for them, this could be difficult to determine. In the middle ages, a concoction of henbane, fennel and betony was considered the cure for the bite of a rabid dog. It was likely not too effective. In any case, it perhaps afforded a quicker death than would have otherwise been had from rabies. So sedative are its effects, livestock have been known to consume the plant and for all practical purposes appear to be dead. From Coles’ Art of Simpling: (Simpling being an archaic word for the art of using plants for medicine.)

‘If Asses chance to feed much upon Hemlock, they will fall so fast asleep that they will seeme to be dead, in so much that some thinking them to be dead indeed have flayed off their skins, yet after the Hemlock had done operating they have stirred and wakened out of their sleep, to the griefe and amazement of the owners.’

Niketas Choniates, 12th century Byzantine government official and historian, spoke disparagingly of his own when he “decried the generation of tyrants in Byzantium as the one that produced hemlock and brought utter ruin to the majority of cities in the empire”

Perhaps he was thinking of the wife of Romanos II, Theophano, who was suspected by the historian Leo the Deacon of poisoning her husband with hemlock. Leo asserted that the poison had originated from the gynakonitis or womens’ quarters. There is no proof that the empress poisoned her husband, though her later behavior in the death of her second husband Nikephorus Phokas does little to exonerate her either.

Hemlock could rightfully and historically earn the title Queen of Poisons that aconite carries. Socrates notwithstanding, it has perhaps at least placed itself in the historical limelight.

Resources:

Byzantine Garden Culture ed. by Antony Robert Littlewood, Henry Maguire, Joachim Wolschke-Bulmahn

Authority in Byzantium ed. by Pamela Armstrong

Byzantine Empresses: Women and Power in Byzantium AD 527-1204 by Lyda Garland

Poison Apothecary Part Three

Almost all the poisonous plants are beautiful and Deadly Nightshade (Atropa belladonna) is no exception. Like henbane it contains the deadly alkaloids, scopolamine, hyoscyamine, and atropine. And of course it was the most well known ingredient in the witches’ flying ointment. So toxic, only two berries will kill a child, ten an adult, it is one of the most dangerous plants in the Eastern Hemisphere. Interestingly, it is possible to develop a tolerance to belladonna, useful for would be assassins who wished to demonstrate the safety of a poisoned drink. The fact that the berries reportedly ave a sweet, fruity taste, made them useful to poison wine, as there was no need to mask the taste as with the bitter alkaloids of henbane and aconite. King Duncan of Scotland, when he needed to get rid of some troublesome Danes, made just such an efficacious use of someone with an acquiredAtropa_belladonna_-_Köhler–s_Medizinal-Pflanzen-018 immunity to belladonna as related in George Buchanna’s History of Scotland, vol 6:

Whereupon a great deal of Bread and Wine was sent them, both Wine pressed out of the Grape, and also strong Drink made of Barley-Malt, mixed with the Juice of a poysonous Herb, abundance of which grows in Scotland, called Sleepy Night-shade. The Stalk of it is above two Foot long, and in its upper part spreads into Branches; the Leaves are broadish, acuminated at the Extremities, and faintly green. The Berries are great, and of a black Colour when they are ripe, which proceed out of the Stalk under the bottom of the Leaves; their Taste is sweetish, and almost insipid; it hath a very small Seed, as little as the Grains of a FigWhereupon a great deal of Bread and Wine was sent them, both Wine pressed out of the Grape, and also strong Drink made of Barley-Malt, mixed with the Juice of a poysonous Herb, abundance of which grows in Scotland, called Sleepy Night-shade. The Stalk of it is above two Foot long, and in its upper part spreads into Branches; the Leaves are broadish, acuminated at the Extremities, and faintly . The Vertue of the Fruit, Root, and especially of the Seed, is Soporiferous, and will make Men mad if they be taken in too great Quantities. With this Herb all the Provision was infected, and they that carryed it, to prevent all Suspicion of Fraud, tasted of it before, and invited the Danes to drink huge Draughts of it.

One could never be too careful. Anyone could subject themselves to the minute doses of belladonna over time and demonstrate the supposed safety of a beverage. In The Serpentine Key, Ivan Vladislav exhibits a wise paranoia in the company of Emperor Basil II and refuses to drink the wine, even when Basil himself drinks from the proffered cup:

“Wine. Bring him some wine,” Basil told a eunuch who waited silently by a curtain, obscuring an entryway into a shadowy side room. On silent, slippered feet, the eunuch disappeared like a ghost and returned a few minutes later with a small goblet of rich ruby liquid. He offered it to Ivan. Ivan gripped the carved wooden arms of the chair. He shook his head.

An amused smile curved over Basil’s lips. “I assure you, I am not attempting to poison you, Cometopuli.” Still Ivan shook his head. Basil beckoned to the eunuch. “Think you that I have the need to use poison on the son and nephew of my enemies when I have so many armed men at my disposal? But make a wrong move and I could slay you myself. I do not use your devious methods.”

“My devious methods,” Ivan spat. “You sent the wrong bride and you do not call yourself devious?”

Basil laughed. “ If it pleases you, I will taste it myself.” He gestured for the cup to be brought to him and took a long sip of the wine.

Belladonna is a native to Europe and North Africa, likely naturalized in North America through the fecal material of pigs brought over to this continent. Pigs are among the livestock who also appear to not suffer any of the adverse effects of the plant. To humans it is a deadly toxin and should never be grown in gardens where children could access it. Children, especially should be cautioned not to touch unknown plants, as even handling the roots with broken skin can cause toxicity. Because the berries are attractive and sweet, perhaps more children than any other fall victim to this deadly plant.

Resources:

History of Scotland vol. 6 by George Buchannan.

Poison Apothecary Part Two

Henbane (Hyoscyamus niger) has an interesting and varied past. On the one hand it has been used in medicine. The Byzantine physician, Paul of Aegina (625 – 690) used a decoction of henbane mandrake, opium, and wine as an anesthetic before surgery. In any case, henbane was well know throughout Europe and not just for magic. It was an effective poison. Some say second only to aconite in the poisoners’ arts. Etymologically, henbane has nothing to do with hens at all. In old English, hen had to do with death and in fact, the plant was once called henbell.

It is probably associated with witchcraft more than any other plant. A very important Norsewoman, likely a volva or Seihdkona was found in a rich burial in Fyrkat Denmark. Among her grave good was a pouch containing the seeds henbane and cannabis, both with mind-altering properties. However it is the henbane that has been associated with the sensation of flying that it gave to witches who used it. Often it was combined with mandrake, datura and nightshade, themselves all highly toxic plants. Even henbane petals rubbed against the skin have been reported to have caused an experience akin to floating of flying.

Every party of henbane contains alkaloids such as scopolamine, hyoscyamine, and atropine. The seeds are slightly less toxic, which is why the lady of Fyrkat may have been carrying those in her pouch for magic work and not compounds of the deadlier part of the plant.

Safe to say, henbane was as well known to the Byzantines as it was to the Norse. Prior to the use of hops, it was used in brewing beer. It still is to this day. It is called Pilsenkraut Among the Byzantines as stated above, was used in medicine. There can be no doubt it was favored by both when it came time to rid oneself of a particularly obnoxious enemy.

One was always wise to taste carefully anything proffered by anyone that one could not altogether trust, as Sven does in The Serpentine Key:

Sven waited until the chamberlain took a sip and then he too took a tiny sip of the wine testing it on his tongue for any sign of bitterness of henbane or the throat tingling that was said to come with aconite. It did not taste of poison, but then he knew plenty of artful concoctions that were tasteless and odorless. One did not long reside in the Imperial City without a good education of the mixtures that were at the disposal of the poisoners’ arts. He took a slightly larger sip. It had a faint note of oak. The former chamberlain detected his appreciation of it. “That is a fine wine. My nephew has confiscated my lands and my wealth, but I still have a modest allotment of the wines from my vineyards brought to me weekly by boat. This, however, is foreign wine, from the Negev. I am to be treated like a member of the imperial family in my libations, it seems, if not my habitation.” He settled himself in the chair and closed his eyes, as if nothing else mattered except this wine.

“Did the last emperor have such fine wine before he died?” Sven commented acerbically.

“You wound me. I had no hand in the death of the Emperor John. Some say he dug his own grave with too much food and too much drink. It was no doing of mine. Indeed, even thought I knew whose hand was in it, I would not have stayed it. He was far too eager to halt my climb to power. Still,” and he chuckled “It would be an amusing joke, would it not, for me to assassinate the assassin?” He plucked a grape from the bowl and chewed on it thoughtfully. “I do have poison at hand however. I kept it for my own use, should my exile prove to be too unbearable. If you are to kill me, I would prefer that you poison me. Knives and such make an extraordinary mess.”

We have no evidence to link the Imperial Chamberlain Basilios Lakepenos with any of the deaths around him. But as a powerful man with much to lose, he might have been quite willing to turn to poison to eliminate his equally powerful enemies.

Sources: An Analytical Dictionary of the English Etymology, an Introduction by Anatoly Liberman

Writer’s Guide to Poisons

Big Bad Book of Botany by Michael Largo

Vikingaliv (Viking Lives) by Dick Harrison and Kristina Svensson

 

Poison Apothecary Part One

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