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neither killer nor corpse-looter found the small secret that stayed clenched in the dead man’s stiffening right fist. It was one of the rare times in thirty years that the object had been more than a heartbeat away from its rightful owner.

Chapter Five
    Cairo, Egypt – July 1798
    With the French Army of the Orient
    When his potion and his pill,
    Has, or none, or little skill,
    Meet for nothing but to kill;
    Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
    – Robert Herrick, ‘His Litany to the Holy Spirit’ (1647)

 
    ‘Are you sure you really want this, Excellency?’ the doctor asked as he handed his patient a small leather bag. It was sealed with a knot of a bright ribbon that extended into a long loop. The bag, little more than a sachet, was decorated with a tiny golden button depicting a honey bee.
    The object of the deferential, if wary, approach was a stocky man whose curt nod matched the sour expression of his sallow face. He slipped the ribbon noose over his head and the bag rested on his silken stock and shirt front. He rebuttoned his green frockcoat over a badge of Barbara, the saint of gunners. So, even a general welcomed divine aid.
    ‘You are certain it will work?’ He fingered the sachet.
    The doctor sighed. He was supposed to save life, not extinguish it. However … his fee in gold was good, and his patient was too important, even too dangerous, to defy.
    ‘Of course it will – would – work. In there is
Atropa belladonna,
also
Veratrum album
and
Hyoscyamus niger —’
    The general held up a hand impatiently. ‘Wait! I know belladonna – deadly nightshade? But the others?’
    The doctor nodded. ‘You know of belladonna because it is mydriatic – that is, drops of it in solution dilate the pupils of the eyes …and thus it earned its name: “fair ladies” have used it to beautify themselves.
    ‘The others here are white hellebore and black henbane, again of the nightshade family and also a stimulant for the heart.’
    The patient seemed unconvinced.
    In exasperation the doctor said coldly, ‘Well, sir, if you don’t trust me, trust your own eyes.’ He turned to his silently watching assistant. ‘Go, to the streets if you must, but get me a cat!’
    His Excellency’s eyes, even without the benefit of belladonna, widened. The assistant scuttled out.

    The doctor instructed his man to hold the head of the quickly captured cat firmly. He then approached with a pipette, the tiny glass tube filled with a small amount of a liquid drawn from a bottle.
    ‘This is a weakened solution of the prescription you now carry,’ the doctor explained. ‘It is less than a quarter of a grain in toxic strength – you know that a grain is 0.0648 grammes?’
    The patient shrugged. He did know of the apothecary’s age-old measure, historically equal to the average weight of a grain of wheat. He disapproved of such outdated measures, and said so. ‘Everything should be – and one day will be – in our metricated code. But get on with it.’
    The doctor deftly tipped drops into the animal’s eyes. ‘Observe!’ he said. ‘The characteristics of belladonna.’
    The men bent down and saw that the cat’s pupils suddenly widened and stayed dilated. ‘Physicians find this useful in the examination and treatment of diseases of the eyes,’ said the doctor.
    His superior seemed unimpressed. ‘How can I be sure that the mixture can perform to full, shall we say, satisfaction?’
    The doctor lowered the cat to the floor and decanted another draught into a bowl he filled with milk. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is a stronger solution of the same toxins – this time you are seeing much more than a quarter of a grain.’
    The animal soon approached, sniffed at the offering and began to lap. Suddenly it went into violent spasms, overturning the bowl. Hacking retching brought up blood-flecked mucous and the cat’s eyes widened, this time also in pain and fear. The spine arched then collapsed. With an almost human wail, the cat died.
    The