“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.”
“I have some excellent Cyprian wine. It produces the mildest of hangovers.”
I stood. “I may take you up on it.” I scanned the walls of the surgery. Asklepiodes had samples of nearly every weapon in the world. Each had attached a scroll describing the wounds it produced. “I wish everyone would use honest weapons like these,” I lamented.
“What a simple place the world would be,” Asklepiodes sighed. “We should then live in a golden age. As it is, the choice of weapons is broad. Even the subtlest poisons are crude compared to the weapon of choice favored in Rome today.”
“Which is?”
“The spoken word. I try to stay aloof from Roman politics, but you are a noisy lot.”
“We learned it from you Greeks,” I pointed out. “Pericles and Demosthenes and all that wordy pack.”