Author: Gretchen Brown

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

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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

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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

 

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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

 

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Berserkers, Men or Myth? Part Two

But really, who were the berserkers? They were not merely stories made up to frighten children, because there were laws passed in medieval Christianized Iceland against them. You don’t enact laws against men who are only the stuff of stories.

“His men went without mailcoats or shields and were as frantic as dogs or wolves; they bit their shields and were as strong as bears or boars; they slew men but neither fire nor iron hurt them. This is known as ‘running berserk’” Ynglinga Saga

Theories abound, including the abuse of alcohol and Amanita muscaria or fly agaric mushroom. Alcohol has a very weak connection. First off, a man who is drunk enough to fly into a blind rage would be almost worse than useless in battle. His efforts would be uncoordinated and he certainly would not be unaffected by fire or iron as the saga suggests. Alcohol thins the blood. They are far more likely to bleed out from the horrific wounds inflicted in medieval battle.

A case has been made for the fly agaric mushroom. Despite the fact that this red fungus, speckled with white shows up in almost every European fairy tale picture book you ever read as a child, it grew in Europe in only isolated areas. It certainly does not grow in Iceland where there is much mention of the berserkers. Furthermore, the effects of the mushroom, unless used very carefully, are more likely to produce real illness than the desired level of hallucination in those who ingest it. The potency of the mushroom is affected by many things: the time of the year it is harvested, where it has been harvested and how it is collected. There is not enough uniformity to produce the desired outcome.

Some have suggested the use of the bog myrtle, a plant frequently used in place of hops for ale in Scandinavia. However there is little evidence to support this being the medium by which certain Norsemen went berserk. Many more men would have gone berserk, women as well and that does not seem to be the case from what we read in the sagas.

Men such as Kvedulf (Evening Wolf) who left to be alone in the evening away from his family to deal with his berserker tendencies, may have found it difficult to live in organized society and often found themselves exiled from it.

One of the things that set the berserkers apart is that though they had an incredible ability to fight during the gangr or berserker rage which lasted at best only thirty to forty minutes. After that, they became weak and unable to fight. This fits with IED in which shares much with those who self identify as berserkers. The altered awareness, hearing voices and echos, increased strength, duration of outbursts, tingling sensation, tension and mood changed prior to an outburst, violent reactions to stressors and a dissociative state are some of the symptoms of IED. Much of this sounds like Dr. Shay’s list comparing the berserker behavior to that of Vietnam vets with PTSD.

Jonathan Shay, a clinical psychiatrist makes the case for the hyperarousal of post traumatic stress disorder in his book Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character. It is true that as long as soldiers have gone into battle and witnessed the horrors of war, there have been those affected with PTSD, but this is not a strong enough connection to apply to all those who were affected with the berserker rage. He does make a convincing argument in his list of berserker-like characteristics: “…beastlike; godlike; socially disconnected; crazy, mad, insane; enraged; cruel without restraint or discrimination; insatiable, devoid of fear, inattentive to own safety; distractable, indiscriminate; reckless, feeling invulnerable; exalted, intoxicated, frenzied; cold, indifferent; insensible to pain; and suspicious of friends.”

It sounds like a laundry list for the berserker distinguishing features if I ever heard one. But it does not take into consideration that the sagas mentioned that the berserkers run in families, which would indicate a genetic component, something that PTSD would not be a result of. It is possible however that PTSD aggravates an already present condition. I reference the berserker Egil Skallagrimson of the

Icelandic Egil’s Saga whose father Skallagrim was a berserker and the son of Kveldulf Bjalfson or Evening Wolf, also a berserker. This very much indicates the condition was genetic and places some weight on its being something like IED which we have today.

The U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs estimates that 11% to 20% of military veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan are afflicted with the condition. How much this percentage would change for those who had experienced medieval combat can only remain speculation.

The most convincing argument I have yet seen is that it was a genetic condition that we still have today: Intermittent Militant Disorder or Intermittent Explosive Disorder, otherwise IED. However, far from being viewed as mentally ill, these men would have been perceived as being gifted by the god Odin. They were considered sons of Odin and both feared and respected. As elite warriors, they were both at the top of society and also cast out of it. There is evidence that such a “disorder” far from being seen as debilitating, opened up neural pathways in the mind not available to others not born to it. And while these natural abilities may have been enhanced by such psychoactive substances such as henbane or hempr (cannabis), much of what they did was probably innate.

The subject of the berserker is an extensive one and more than can not be covered in the scope of a blog post.

Sources:

Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character by Jonathan Shay M.D. Ph.D

There is little written scientifically on the modern berserker. There is however an excellent book written by Wayland Skallagrimson Putting on the Wolf Skin: The Berserker and Other Forms of Somafera.

See also his website:  http://www.uppsalaonline.com/uppsala/somafera/

 

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Berserkers — Men or Myth? Part One

“There was a man named Ulf, son of Bjalf… Ulf was a man so tall and strong that none could match him and in his youth he roved the seas as a freebooter….he was a berserker.”    Egil’s Saga.

In The Serpentine Key, and the two books following, the Norse mercenary, Sven Thorvaldson and his son struggle with being ulfhednar, wolf berserkers, something they were born to and that have shaped who they are.

Most people have at one point in their lives used the word berserk. But what does it mean? In our culture it is someone who flies off the handle, becomes irrationally angry. The berserk shows up in the role playing game Dungeons and Dragons as a playable class alongside Runemasters and Skalds. They have magic abilities and special roles. In European legends, the werewolf has much in common with the ulfhedinn, the berserk who identifies with the wolf, including his tremendous strength. In Russia, colonized in the ninth century by the Norse, the werewolf is called the oberot or bodark which translates into “one transformed”.

Nor are such accounts isolated to Norse society. The Celtic Cuchulain’s Riastradh of Irish myth shared many of the same characteristics as berserkers. Both berserkers and members of the Riastradh were known to go into a battle frenzy seemingly unaffected by injury and take sometimes days to come down from it, during which time they would be weak and defenseless. Perhaps this was even what was described for the Irish warriors of Ulster who are cursed by the goddess Macha when they refused to help her as she went into labor. She cursed them to be as weak as a woman upon whom labor pains have come when they would be in their greatest hour of need. Those who fought Norse berserkers regularly knew about this “Kryptonite” of theirs and knew to engage the berserkers just long enough until the gangr would wear off and then they would be weak, diminished and unable to fight. For this reason, their use was as shock troops, often to break through shield walls. A berserker was reputed to be the one who, single-handed, held off a portion of the Saxon army at Stanford Bridge in 1066 until reinforcements could arrive.

From Egil’s Saga: “So it is said of those men who were shape-strong or on any of them on whom was the berserk-gang that for so long as they held, they were so strong there was no holding against the, but forthwith when that was passed over, then they were unmighter than of wont. And so it was with Kveldulf that as soon as the berserk rage was gone from him, then he knew he his weariness of those onslaughts he had made and he was altogether without might, so that he laid down in his bed.”

Romans spoke of crazed Celtic warriors who went into battle naked, unafraid of death. They called them Furor Celticus. The triple goddess Morrigan was said the be the one who inspired this battle frenzy, possibly brought about by deep mediation. She had much in common with Freyja, both being deities of death and transformation as well as the battle frenzy. There are also stories of the Maylasian warriors who “ran amok” and the African “leopard men” with similar proclivities.

The etymology of the word berserker differs depending on who you talk to. Some say it means “bare of shirt” for the practice of these men fighting without the protection of either leather armor of ring-mail shirts. Others insist that it referred to to the “bear nature” of some berserkers or perhaps wearing the skin of the bear. Those who embraced the spirit of the wolf in the almost shamanic practice of their warrior tradition were known as ulfhednar. In The Serpentine Key, Sven Thorvaldson is ulfhedninn, as is his son. For him, it is a curse as much as it is a gift of Odin. Like many modern day sufferers of IED, he has a tendency to alcoholism. Suicidal tendencies also seem to be a mark of a man afflicted this way. Egil Skallgrimson tended to deep depressions. Prone to volatile emotions, he keeps himself so tightly restrained as to appear withdrawn and devoid of emotion. Years have training have taught Sven to school and control the gangr. With training, the berserk can deliberately induce the state, as well as hold it off when necessary. Most weren’t so disciplined. In the sagas, it was said to be brought on at unexpected times, including even by hard labor. Yet the berserker state cannot be chalked up to only an explosion of rage, or even excess of adrenalin, though the latter two do seem to factor in the wiring and neural impulses of these men. The berserker was and is perhaps the man who takes the IED to another level due to the spiritual mechanics of meditation and shamanic trance. He becomes one with Odin or perhaps with the wolf or bear with which he identifies himself. The greater strength with which the berserker seems to be granted, is only one side affect. Perhaps it is the unitary state into which he enters that also grants him an almost sixth sense. In The Serpentine Key, Sven is able to sense an enemy’s next move before he makes it. His movements are sure and coordinated, hardly the result of a man drunk on alcohol or slowed by hallucinogens.

Next time we will examine a medical angle on the berserks. If so, do they still exist today? Share your thoughts below.

Sources:

Germanic Warriors: Warrior Styles from Trajan’s Column to Icelandic Sagas by Michael P. Speidel

Egil’s Saga

Ynglinga Saga

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Byzantine Cuisine –And Now Dessert

Dessert is an apt conclusion to the series on food. Desserts, including sweetmeats and honey cakes were eaten by the higher classes, including koptoplakous, the ancestor to baklava still eaten in Greece today. It would have certainly been on Theophana’s table:

Theophana smiled indulgently at her. She seemed to be in an especially good humor. “Since Constantine will not be returning, I think it best that we look elsewhere to marry you. There are so many good matches to be had for a young woman of your position in the world and I hardly think any suitor will find your looks displeasing or wanting. Now,” She picked up a two-tined fork and prodded a dish in which lay koptoplakous in golden, honeyed splendor. “Won’t you try this, Davit? It is very good.” She smiled at him. Normally the koptoplakous, filled with nuts and honey, soaked with bay leaves and resting between layers of pastry would have made Sophia’s mouth water. She watched as a servant prepared to cut and serve the sweetmeat. Theophana’s eyes were bright with anticipation, but Sophia did not think it was the koptoplakous that inspired her.

Speaking of forks, to the imperial family the fork would have been a recognizable implement, yet still hundreds of years away from regular use in Western Europe. The wife of the Holy Roman Emperor in the West, Otto II was a Byzantine princess. (Her name was Theophano Sclerina and she was a member of the Scleros family. Not to be confused with my fictional Theophana nor to the historical Theophano who was mother to the emperors Basil II and Constantine VIII). She used a fork as a matter of course at a banquet in 972 in Germany and caused no little astonishment (and perhaps scorn) to her Western in-laws.

If women were present at banquets, they were most often served at a separate table. Then as now, social rules might often be disregarded however. Women’s social standing in the Byzantine Empire presents an interesting subject for another article outside the scope of this one. They were certainly excused from post dinner festivities which were often the venue for riotous drinking and dancing girls.

A whole book could be written regarding the gastronomic and culinary delights of the middle Byzantine empire and suffice to say there is not room in a blog. Food says much about a culture. What could food say about the Byzantines? That they enjoyed fine food in an age when much of the world dined on simpler fare, perhaps? Or does it say something about the abundance of the empire during the reigns of Basil II and his brother Constantine? Basil II was known to give special preference in taxation to the common farmers versus the large plantation farms of the nobility. He recognized that agriculture was the foundation of his empire. Truly the Byzantines have bequeathed to us a legacy not least of which was their food. Perhaps except for the garum.

I highly recommend reading from these resources:

Daily Life in the Byzantine Empire by Marcus Rautman

The Book of the Eparch

Geoponika (translated by Thomas Owen)

Let me know your thoughts below.

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Byzantine Cuisine – Drink and Tavernas

An example of a Roman thermopolium

The poor of the cities were often discouraged from cooking in their own homes, often shabby flats, for fear of fire. For this purpose, Roman fast food joints known as thermopolia, sprang up. Here common people could obtain a hot meal for a cheap price. The tavernas also catered to the common people. Here you could buy alcohol as well as a hot meal. For a bronze follis or two you could obtain salted fish, beans and coarse black bread, washed down with cheap acidic wine. If you had a few extra folles you might also be able to obtain the attentions of the dancing girls, as prostitution was often one of the services offered by the tavernas, in spite of the supposed prudery of the times. An effort was made to limit the time tavernas could be open to prevent mischief especially on Sundays and during Lent. Even so, tavernas continued to offer diversions such as dice, singing, cock fights and of course sexual entertainment.

If you had enough coin, you could afford a specialty drink such as phouska. Those who catered to foreign tastes, might offer the drinks of their choice. The Norse Varangians from Russia and Scandinavia as well as Anglo Saxons, disenfranchised after the Norman Conquest in England, favored the strong fermented honey drink, mead and so as men from the northern lands flooded Constantinople in search of a position in the famed Varangian Guard, honey mead came to be a popular offering in the tavernas. A Varangian might have lingered for a while in such a taverna, as Sven does here:

Sven found himself again in a taverna as the late afternoon light lengthened the shadows. He hurt all over. He turned again to wine for solace, as well as a favorite past time of his: listening to the conversations of others. The taverna keeper lit the oil lamps swaying from the rafters on their chains. Sven basked in the glow they cast over the well-worn wooden tables and benches. He liked tavernas. They stank of wine and reeked of the odor of unwashed humanity. But they were pleasant places overall for people watching. Two infantrymen played at dice in a corner for bronze coins. Men creaked over the wooden floor boards, rattling the tables and making the wine slosh in his cup. Behind him, three men sat down at a bench opposite the door. Without looking at them, he could tell they were better educated and better paid than most of the men within the confines of the establishment. He could tell that one man was quite a bit younger than the others, but higher in status. They all spoke a higher dialect of Greek, not the peasant variety spoken by most others there. They ordered better wine than he himself drank. It was phouska, a drink flavored with cumin, anise, fennel and thyme. It had never been to his taste. He closed his eyes and sipped his own harsh wine. 

The ambassador, Liutprand of Cremona mentioned in a previous post who objected to garum,  also did not care for Byzantine wine which he described as “mixed with pitch, resin, and plaster was to us undrinkable”.  Perhaps the ambassador was merely difficult to please.   He must have been alone in his assessment, as Byzantine wines were much favored by Western Europeans.  He may have been referring to Retsina, a type of wine that got its unique flavor from sealing the wine jars with pine resin.

Next we will look at dessert, everyone’s favorite! Let me know your thoughts below.

Sources:

The Complete Works of Liudprand of Cremona (Medieval Texts in Translation) Liudprand (Bishop of Cremona)

Tastes of Byzantium : The Cuisine of a Legendary Empire by Andrew Dal

Daily Life in the Byzantine Empire by Marcus Rautman

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Byzantine Cuisine – Bread and Eggs

Vegetables were eaten by citizens of the Eastern Roman Empire and in a wide variety. Most of them were well know to the modern diet, such as cabbage, carrots and greens. Artichokes were well known and Antioch was famous for its cucumbers. Melons were cheap and readily available. Lentils were a staple in the diet of the poor. Those that could afford them seasoned their food with spices, some brought in from Asia. These included cinnamon, caraway, cardamom, cumin, ginger, nutmeg, saffron, pepper, clove, coriander, among many others that can still be find in our spice cabinets today, though now far more easily and cheaply obtained. Those with less money would use onions, leeks and garlic for seasoning their food. Eggs were favored by all classes and came from hens, geese and pheasants. The Byzantine omelet known as the sphoungata was stuffed with olives and goat cheese and perhaps chickpeas salted and cooked in olive oil. It would even have been on the table of the Emperor himself as mentioned in The Serpentine Key:

Little else was said as servants came in bringing great dishes of food. First came the platters of delicate cheese and also sphoungata, omelets made with olives and goat cheese. Anna picked up her spoon and found she had no desire to eat. For the time being, all talk of politics was dropped. Now was the time for the repast and no polite host spoke of business or politics until the figs and pomegranates had been brought forth. Alfaar looked hungrily at the great quantities of food placed on the table. A steaming platter of fish, surrounded by quail stuffed with their own eggs was set before them. Their cups were always kept filled with wine.

Bread has always been a staple of the diet as long as there have been civilization. White bread was the choice for the higher up, while dark bread served to feed the masses. Rye, barley and millet made the “dirty” bread known as ryparos. Flour of any kind was stored in earthenware jars to protect it from insects and rodents. Farm families baked their own bread and in the cities bread was mass produced in bakeries.

In any case, it seems the Byzantine diet was a varied one. While garum might not appeal to, there would have been plenty of food that would and would have been familiar to us.  Constantine originally provided bread rations to every citizen of Constantinople, but as the city grew, it became increasingly difficult to keep up with this demand. Hunger did not seem to be as much an issue as it was in other parts of Europe. While there were ninety-five famines in Britain alone in the medieval period, there seems to be little record of similar widespread devastation in the Eastern Roman Empire.  The comparative mildness of the Mediterranean climate may have had something to do with it, but also the relative political stability as well may have been a contributing factor.

Next time we will look at alcoholic beverages favored by those who lived in the Byzantine Empire. Let me know your thoughts below!

Sources: Everyday Life in the Byzantine Empire by Marcus Rautman

What life was like amid splendor and intrigue: Byzantine Empire, AD 330-1453 by Ellen Anker, Time Life Books

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