Poison dealers and murderers, that's what he had been forced to serve. His fists clenched slightly, but then relaxed. Romans had killed more brutally than this more often than not. Poison was for suicide and honorable deaths. Prisoners of war and slaves were given to the sword or the axe, or if they were really unlucky, the noose. Here it was probably better that he behaved; he was not a gladiator here, and he did not try to go out of his way to antagonize anyone. All he wanted was peace and he would have it even if he was in a sort of hell.
"Monkshood," he said suddenly. It was not that common a plant in his home, he remembered, but it was one that he had been warned against in the Isles. It was a pretty flower but more toxic than anything he had ever known about. "Poisonous, very. Shouldn't even touch it really. It's very bad, maybe find it here? Looks like.. a hooded figure, comes in blues of a sort." That would make her happy, wouldn't it? A deadly flower, beautiful and lovely, would be exactly what she wanted. It was no berry to eat, but it could be brewed into a deadly brew. Clever cooks could put it into a pot of food and let it kill those who were ill-fated to ingest it; they would die without a single breath of air in their lungs as the plant closed their throats. If they were lucky, they wouldn't scratch out their own throats eager for air. Or so he had been told.
Gale peered at the woman, knowing that being useful was what a slave ought to aspire towards, but he felt as though he had just given her something of more value than he should have given her. The baneberry was enough to kill a child, wasn't that enough of a deadly tool? "But I don't know where it could be found or what it looks like from experience."
Image credited to RomeCabs. Table style inspired by Kitty.
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