John Roberts - Saturnalia

I was in the dark about one matter, and I decided to rectify it before proceeding further. I turned my steps west toward the river and began the long walk to the Transtiber district.

I found Asklepiodes in his spacious surgery in the ludus of Statilius Taurus. His intelligent face broke into a smile when he saw me come in. His hair and beard were a little grayer than when I had last seen him in Alexandria, but otherwise he was unchanged. He was directing a slave, who was rubbing liniment into the shoulder of a massive Numidian.

“Rejoice!” he said, taking my hand. “I hadn’t heard of any recent, interesting murders in Rome. What brings you home so suddenly?”

“The usual,” I said. “Just not recent.”

“You must tell me all about it.” He dismissed the slave and the injured gladiator. “Wrenched shoulder,” he commented. “I keep telling Statilius that training with double-weight shields causes more injuries than can be justified by any good that they may do, but it is traditional and he will not listen.”

I took a seat by his window. The clatter of arms drifted musically up from the exercise yard below.

“It is upon the mysteries of your profession that I wish to consult you,” I told him.

“But of course. How may I help?”

“What do you know of poisons?”

“Enough to know that I am forbidden by oath to prescribe them.”

“Sophistry,” I said. “You use them all the time in your medicines.”

“True, the line is a fine one. Many beneficial medicines, in excessive quantities, can kill. A drug that slows the heart can stop the heart. But I presume that your interest is in those poisons favored for homicide?”

“Exactly. My family wants me to look into the death of Metellus Celer.”

“I suspected as much. Like everyone else, I have heard the rumors. An important man, married to a notorious woman, a sudden, unexpected death, ergo, poisoning.”

“I must snoop,” I said. “I must ask questions. But what am I looking for?”

Asklepiodes sat and pondered. “First, you must discern the symptoms. Were there convulsions? Did the victim foam at the mouth? Did he complain of stomach pains or chills? Did he vomit ejecta of unusual form or color? Was there a bloody flux of the bowels?”

“That sounds simple enough,” I said.

“It is perhaps the only simple part. You must realize that, when the subject is poisoning, there is far more superstition than learning involved.”

“I know,” I admitted. “Here in Italy the whole subject is associated with witches more than with physicians or apothecaries.”

“As you say. Few poisons act with terrible swiftness, few are lethal in minute quantities, few can be administered undetected. In fact, some are given in very small quantities over a very long time. Their effect is cumulative. Thus the victim may appear to have died of a lengthy illness.”

“You are saying that poisoning is a job for experts.”

He nodded. “Or for a murderer with access to expert advice. There are always a few professionals in the field, and they are never without practice. Remember, many approach poisoners for purposes of suicide. Among those not under the oath of my profession, this is a quasilegitimate practice. Neither gods nor civil authorities forbid suicide.”

“How do real poisoners get their victims to take the stuff?” I asked him.

“The most common fashion, one you are familiar with since it has been tried upon you without success, is orally. This is almost always accomplished through food or drink as the transmitting agent, although it is not unheard of for poison to be disguised as genuine medicine. The difficulty with oral transmission is that most poisons have powerful, unpleasant flavors.”

“That’s where disguising it as medicine would help,” I commented. “Most medicines taste awful.”

“Very true. Most poisons take the form of liquids or powders. They may be mixed with drink or sprinkled over food. A few occur in the form of gums or pastes and a very few can be burned to give off a poisonous smoke.”

“Say you so? That’s a new one on me. I knew the smoke of hemp and opium are intoxicating; I didn’t know there were lethal smokes.”

“Poisoning by inhalation is perhaps the rarest sort and it is usually accidental, not deliberate. Artisans who work with mercury, especially where it is used for extracting gold from ore, sometimes inhale poisonous fumes. There are places where poisonous fumes occur naturally, as in the vicinity of volcanoes, and certain swamps are notorious for the phenomenon.”

“Not likely to be used for murder then?”

“It would be difficult. Poisons may also be administered rectally. It presents difficulties, but the amatory preferences of some persons could render intimate companions access to that area. The poisons may be the same as those taken orally, although of necessity their administration must be somewhat more forceful.”

“I would think so.” Well, nothing was beyond Clodia.

“Poisons may also enter the body through an open wound. Poisoned daggers and other weapons are not uncommon. In fact, in the Greek language the very word for poison, toxon , comes from a word meaning ‘of the bow,’ owing to the once common practice of poisoning arrows. It must be admitted, though, that often soldiers think they have been wounded with poisoned arrows when in fact the wounds have merely become infected.”

“Soldiers are a credulous lot,” I said.

“Poison may also be absorbed through the skin. Added to one’s bathing or massage, oil would be a subtle means of administration. And some authorities believe that those unfortunate workers in mercury are subject to absorbing poisons through the skin, as well as inhaling deadly vapors.”

“A hazardous trade,” I observed.

“As is yours.” He stroked his neatly trimmed beard. “In speaking of poisons, one must not neglect the possibility of animal vectors.”

“I suppose one shouldn’t,” I admitted. “What do you mean?”

“The occasional poisonous serpent found in a victim’s bed may not always have wandered there by chance. And some persons are especially sensitive to bee and wasp stings. A hornet’s nest tossed into the window of such a person is an effective means of disposal. And at least one pharaoh is said to have died when a rival filled the royal chamber pot with scorpions.”

I winced at that one. “There are more ways of poisoning someone than I thought.”

“There are few subjects upon which so much ingenuity has been lavished as murder. This should present you with a unique challenge.”

“I must confess, old friend, that for the first time I approach an investigation in a spirit nearing despair. If the woman has acted with even the minimum of competence, murder will be all but impossible to prove. And I know that Clodia is more than competent when it comes to murder.”

“A veritable Medea. Suspected of incest with her brother, too, I hear. And a great beauty to cap it all. A fit subject for poets and tragedians.” He had a Greek’s appreciation of such things.

“Catullus used to think so. I heard he finally got over his infatuation and found some other vicious slut to follow around like a puppy.”

“He has become much more of a sophisticate,” Asklepiodes said. “You remember him as a wide-eyed boy, just come to Rome and smitten by Clodia’s wiles. You were not immune to them yourself, if I recall correctly.”

The memory pained me. “And now I’m supposed to find evidence against her that probably doesn’t exist. She will laugh at me.”

“Many men have endured worse from her. You may come to me for treatment.”

“You have a medicine for humiliation? You should be rich as Crassus.”