The Magnus Archives - RQ Network Feed Drop – Plant Murder: Claudius vs The Death Cap Mushroom

Episode Date: November 1, 2024

We are featuring a feed drop from a brand-new show recently launched on the RQ Network: Plant Murder. Created and Hosted by Aaron Reardon the talented creator behind Selene.   Plant Murder is a podcast that unearths the deadly intersection of plants and true crime. Each episode delves into the dark history behind fascinating plants, their fatal impact on infamous figures, and the mysterious circumstances surrounding their use.  In this first episode, Claudius, the emperor of Rome, is seated at a feast surrounded by his family, trusted servants, and assorted delicacies. But something about this night is different. It happens fast—. One minute, he’s gorging himself on his favorite foods, the next, he collapses, and vomits blood across the mosaic floor, his body convulsing. Within hours, he’s dead. As Claudius lay gasping for breath on the cold marble floor, his body wracked with convulsions, the evidence of his murder was already slipping away. What killed him? Poison in the mulsum wine. The oysters? Or his favorite, a tiny hidden killer – slipped onto his place of Mushrooms! And who put it there?  Join us for this episode of Roman intrigue as we peel back the mystery and determine if it was Plant Murder!  Introduction and outro by Billie Hindle. Listen to Plant Murder on The Rusty Quill website, on Acast, or wherever you get your podcasts, or learn more about Plant Murder on its official website.  For ad-free episodes, extras, extended reading, Q&A's, polls and discussions you can join their Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Cleverthan   Credits:  Written and narrated by Aaron J Reardon Voice Talents Quotes - Tali Hamilton Tacitus - John Kennard  Show theme: Poetic Justice by John Humphrey PRS Publisher: 2496 Sound and Music Some Ambiences composed by Michael Ghelfi Studios  *A note on ableism and Claudius: While history often mocks Claudius as a fool, it’s important to remember that these slights were due to his perceived indecisiveness and political naivety, not his physical afflictions. His stammer, limp, and other challenges were frequently weaponized against him by a ruthless elite, but his struggles did not define his intellect or accomplishments. In fact it showed great strength of character to weather those slights and persist. Claudius’ weakness lay in his trusting nature, not in his disabilities. It is my hope that this episode reflects that understanding.  Sources for this episode can be found on the notes of the original episode on Plant Murder here: Plant Murder Episode 1 Content warnings: Poisoning, Murder, Conspiracy, Sudden Death, Eating / Overeating, Sickness, Bleeding, Bullying Mentions of: Incest  SFX :  Sickness, Gurgling, Dying noises  Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi everyone, it's Billy Hindle, the voice of Alice in the Magnus Protocol here. Today we are bringing you the first episode from one of the amazing podcasts that has just launched on the RQ network, Plant Murder, which is created by the talented Aaron Riordan, who also creates the podcast, Celine. Plant Murder is a podcast that cultivates the deadly intersection of plants and true crime throughout history. This first episode titled, Claudius vs the Death Cap Mushroom, finds Claudius, the emperor of Rome, seated at a feast, surrounded by his family, his trusted servants, and an assortment of delicacies.

But something about this night is different. It happens fast. One minute he's gorging himself on his favourite foods, the next he collapses. What killed him? Poison in the mulsum wine? The stuffed dormis? The oysters? Or his favourite? A tiny hidden killer slipped onto his plate of mushrooms and who put it there? You can listen to more of this brilliant series by searching for Plant Murder wherever you listen to your podcasts, by clicking the link in the show notes below,

or by visiting RustyQuill.com or Cleverthumb.com for more information. Have fun and enjoy the episode. Come, thou who art burdened by so many great misfortunes, honor once more thy sad lamentations. Surpass the Kingfisher's and the swift Nightingales, for thy fate is more grievous than theirs. Dusk at the Domas Tiberiana on Palatine Hill. A bronze plate falls from the table. The guests in the dining hall hush. A man stumbles. His vision doubles as delirium slips him closer to the floor. He stammers for help.

The most powerful man in the ancient world is dying, slain by a deadly little mushroom. But who poisoned him on the final night of his tumultuous life? I am Aaron J. Reardon, and this is Plant Murder. Each episode, we delve into the fascinating and deadly plants that had left their mark on human history. In this episode, Emperor Claudius of Rome and the Deathcap Mushroom. Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak with most miraculous organ.

As Claudius lay gasping for breath on the cold marble floor, his body wracked with convulsions. The evidence of his murder was already slipping away. What killed him? Poison in the moulting wine? The stuffed dormice? The oysters? Or his favorite? A tiny hidden killer slipped onto his plate of mushrooms.

As we peel back the layers, ask yourself, was Claudius of such ill health that he was one of the rare emperors that died of natural causes, a so-called sycomortum, a dry death. Or was he one of the many that died of foul play? It's October 13th, 54 CE. We're on Palatine Hill in Rome. A chilly night in autumn. The Domus Tiberianus. The house of the emperor.

And we're standing in the dining hall. A sprawling chamber with marble columns, veined with purple and gold, rising toward a painted ceiling. Flickering light from bronze sconces dance across frescoes, casting long shadows. Murals of Dianysian revelry, nymphs and satyrs caught in celebration. Faces twisted into masks of joy, mocking the tragedy about to unfold below. The table, a low slab of dark wood.

Platters of roasted dormice, honeyed figs, and coated olives. The air heavy with spiced meat. A small mixed group of family and trusted staff reclining on the triclinium as they sip wine. Let's hold this moment. Let's stroll around the room and get a good look at everyone. Who is here with us in this dining hall? I see a wife, a soldier, a eunuch, a doctor, two sons, and a plate of mushrooms tumbling to the floor. They are all looking at the sudden commotion raised by this man here at our feet,

collapsing in front of them, our victim, Emperor Claudius. Before we get to the guests, let's take a look at this poor, quivering fool. His tunic disheveled and stained with vomit, his posture hunched. Thinning hair streaked with gray, sallow skin stretched too tightly across his face. Deep lines etched into his brow, around his mouth. His eyes are bloodshot, watery. They search about in confusion and fear as the poison takes hold.

His hand claws the edge of the table as he pulls at the cloth. Collapsed on the floor, bent and cowering. This, this is the emperor of Rome? The gods do not always smile upon those who are born into greatness. We're in the Palatine Gallery. We're not far from the house. It's 13 years earlier. A bright, crisp January.

And in just a moment, right there, Claudius' obnoxious nephew is about to be stabbed to death in broad daylight, and his nephew's wife and daughter smashed to bits. You might know his nephew's name, Caligula. Yeah, I thought so. One emperor slumped in the dust, leading out with that why-me look on his face. And where is Claudius right now? He's about to become emperor because of his nephew and the Praetorian Guard,

which is like the secret service for Roman emperors. While Caligula was still warm, they raced down the halls of the palace, found Claudius cowering behind a tapestry, and yanked the poor fool into the imperial seat because they wanted to stay in power. Claudius was never supposed to be emperor, a tragic figure. I don't mean to be cruel.

He had a very difficult life, which shaped his character. Claudius entered the world with both immense privilege and crushing stigma. He was the grandson of Mark Antony, the war hero who shacked up with Cleopatra. Shakespeare has a great play about that. Claudius was born into a powerful and noble family, but unfortunately he was born with afflictions, possibly Tourette's or maybe cerebral palsy. Claudius had a stammer, limp and uncontrolled outbursts of speech and uncontrollable laughter. In the shadow of more charismatic figures, Claudius was dismissed, mocked, and left on the margins of Roman political life.

He was taunted by everyone. His own family would mock him, throw food at banquets, and tickle him awake with a feather whenever he fell asleep at the table. He had a difficult go of it. So, are you getting the picture? It was an embarrassment. It was rich and powerful family and so was pushed out of view and the butt of everyone's

choke. But he persevered, writing histories mainly. Perhaps he found escape from an unkind world. Once merely a consul to Caligula, never considered a true contender for emperor. At fifty years of age, Claudius now stood as the unexpected ruler of Rome, yanked into the imperial seat.

And now from that seat, he tumbles to the floor at our feet. Fetal, brutal, stomach cramps, dying. Why, after thirteen years as emperor, would the people around this table want him dead? Despite his accomplishments well into adulthood, Claudius was constantly mocked and manipulated. Was he simply a victim, or did he know the conspiracy brewing around him? Let's look at the faces around the table. Which one of them looks the most guilty? A wife, a soldier, a eunuch, a doctor, his two sons, and a plate of mushrooms, humbling to the floor.

Let's start with the most obvious. His wife. Great power and greater ambition have nothing in common with self-strength. This striking woman with a commanding presence at the end of the table is his wife, Agrippina the Younger. Her dark braids pinned up with a golden item. A rich, adorned, pleated Stola. She is 39 years old at this dinner.

And she is one of the most compelling figures in history. It's 39 CE. We're on the volcanic shores of the island of Pontiac. The rocks are razor sharp, and life is very difficult on this small island. One of the only ways to survive is to dive for sponges. And just under the waves over there, you can just make out Agrippina the younger. She's not married to Claudius yet. She's just 24 here. She's been exiled to this island after the plot of the Three Daggers, a conspiracy to assassinate her brother Caligula.

And yes, if you're paying attention, that means that Claudius was her uncle. She'll be here for another two years before Claudius brings her back to Rome. She spends every moment on this island, scraping to survive. It's a far cry from her upbringing in a wealthy family. Hunting for sponges is difficult work. They have to hold a stone known as a scandala petra, which helps sink them quickly to the seafloor. She has to work swiftly, staying underwater for as long as her lungs will allow.

She can drown, there's shark attacks, she can get the bends, she can get entangled in seaweed or cut herself on the coral. Agrippina is a tough one, and her story reads like something from a dark myth, a young girl thrust into the violent heart of Roman power. Listen to this life. On campaign in Europe as a child, married at 13 to a violent 30-year-old man. He dies.

She marries again. He dies under odd circumstances. Her brother goes nuts. She's forced into a possible incestuous relationship. Conspiracy, thrown to exile on this sharp, isolated island, dies for sponges to survive. She's brought back, marries a man mocked for his afflictions, practices dark magic rituals, and has underworld connections. That husband dies. She continues her obsession with the elevation of her son to emperor, all while ruling in parallel.

It's almost impossible to find an account of Agrippina without the words ruthless or ambitious throughout. She navigated her way from exile to empress, pulling public opinion along with her. Why is Agrippina the primary suspect for Claudius' murder? Well, she lived an impressive life, seemingly fearless. She survived a cutthroat family dynasty, exile, abuse, and even her own assassination attempts. These powerful families had purges. They killed anyone who might be a threat, especially the stakes of noble lineage, any claim for the throne.

Her father murdered. Her mother died in exile. Tiberius killed two of her brothers, and the third, Caligula, was stabbed to death in public. Her sisters were both dead. She was the only surviving member of her family. And like one of those sharks, Agrippina felt that if she stopped ascending, she would meet her end. Maybe she was so conditioned to that bloody environment that that was all she knew.

Agrippina was Claudius's fourth wife and niece, a marriage suggested by the Senate, an incestuous relationship. He had to change Roman law to make it happen, a marriage of convenience to unite the two main families of the Julio-Claudian dynasty. It's fair to say that Agrippina came back to Rome with the express mission to marry an emperor to secure her future. The only way to survive. She once got attacked for being too forward when she publicly made a pass at Emperor Galba. His wife clocked her in the face. She seemed driven and fearless by all accounts,

but possibly without much choice. We are going to go around this table, and you are going to see that everyone else is connected to Agrippina. And she has been positioned as the ringleader of a conspiracy. With favors, promises, threats, she was already an empress at this point. Why would she need to kill Claudius? Well, what if I told you that Agrippina had killed the Four?

had killed before. Are all the pieces falling into place as she sees Claudius tumble to the ground? Or is that a look of compassion in her eye? And did we see Agrippina eat from the same dish of mushrooms that Claudius did? Was Agrippina the younger, the Lady Macbeth of ancient Rome? Well, if she was, she couldn't do it alone. She would have had to recruit some accomplices. So before we rush to judgment.

A nation can survive its fools and even the ambitious, but it cannot survive treason from within. Here's the thing about Rome. It's a city built on indulgence, influence, and blood. During the Julio-Claudian dynasty, the palace is a place of paranoia. Dozens of poisonings have taken place, purges, conspiracies, and rivalries. The very figs on the trees have been coated in poison. And Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus knew this better than anyone. The man lived his whole life in the shadow of sharper, crueler men.

And this dinner had a few knives hidden behind their smiles. So let's look around this table again. A wife. A soldier, a eunuch, a doctor, two sons, and a plate of mushrooms tumbling to the floor. The wife we know is Agrippina. Who is the soldier in his purple cloak and shiny silver brooch that held it fast to the shoulder? The razor-sharp gladius in its leather sheath and a pugio dagger at the ready. This was not any soldier. This was Sextus Efranius Burras,

the prefect of the Praetorian Guard, responsible for the emperor's security and maintaining order in Rome. Burras is a career soldier who spent much of his time in politics. He tends to hover close to Agrippina and her son, almost like a surrogate father. He keeps a very close eye on the boy. He's 53 years old. His once dark hair turned mostly gray, cut short to match his neatly trimmed beard. Could the head of the Praetorian Guard have acted independently to remove Claudius?

Possibly. Without Agrippina knowing? No way. Burras was fiercely loyal to Agrippina, who had positioned him to ensure her son's protection. However, Burras owed his career to Agrippina, which complicates his role in Claudius' death. As he watches Claudius falter,

was he gripping his dagger to finish him off? Were his loyalties to the empire or Agrippina? Why not just stab him like the others? We could assume that a violent death could destabilize the Empire and risk civil war. So it had to be something that looked like an accident. Burras couldn't act alone, but he could have turned a blind eye. Maybe he loved her. Maybe they had an affair behind Claudius' back and Buras wanted him out of the way.

I think he's wrapped around Agrippina's little finger and he's at the ready to do whatever she asks. Claudius wasn't despised the way Caligula was. Claudius did much good for the Empire. So you couldn't just stab the guy to death at dinner. way Caligula was. Claudius did much good for the Empire. So you couldn't just stab the guy to death at dinner. You'd have to make it look like an accident. So let's turn to the next in line.

An accident, like a poisoning, is hard to prove. But you'd have to slip it past a key figure that every emperor relies on. have to slip it past a key figure that every emperor relies on. We're in the Imperial kitchens. These are huge on the palatial grounds, and they're staffed by dozens of slaves, cooking day and night. It would be difficult to poison a dish in here

because of the eunuch there. He's the trusted food taster. His name is Helodis, and he's keeping a watchful eye on the preparation of all the dishes. He has a tenuous relationship with the Archimagoras, the head chef. Helodis would have sampled anything the emperor would likely have eaten, especially his favorite dish of prepared mushrooms. Helotus almost blends into the decor. Now in his mid-40s, his deep-set dark eyes seem perpetually watchful, scanning the surroundings with quiet intensity. His voice is higher-pitched, lacking the deep resonance of most men, he is used to standing just out of view in the corner of your eye, confidently giving a nod that all the food has been tasted and tested

and everything is set up exactly how Claudius likes. His slender, wiry frame moves quietly through the palace halls. His smooth, pale skin and lack of facial hair immediately marked him as a unit. Helodis was responsible for Claudius' safety. How could Helodis, Claudius' food taster, have let a poisoned dish slip past him, unless he too was complicit? Helodis' job was to taste every dish before Claudius ate it, ensuring the Emperor's safety. Yet Claudius still died after consuming something. Was Helodis involved, or did a savvy agent bypass him completely? While we don't have good reason to doubt Helodis' loyalty, he was either complicit

or someone else snuck a plate without him noticing, as since it was his job and he seemed quite good at it. We can assume that was less likely. However, there's one important thing about… well, it's sort of an open secret. Claudius was an incredible glutton. He overindulged in vice. Food, drink, and gambling. He had bouts of indigestion so bad, it drove him to near suicide.

Quite frequently, he had to be carried away from banquets, over-stuffed, to the point of being sick and stumbling drunk. Claudius also really loved snacks. So there was a constant stream of plates and goblets flowing past Helotus all day. See, if Helotus tasted everything on this table, how did he survive the tasting? Think through the scenarios, and while you do that, I'm going to give you one other possibility. What if it wasn't a dish?

What if Claudius stuffed himself with food, got indigestion, and it was used to hide what really killed him? See, there's something else mentioned in the historical accounts. A long, poisoned bird's feather. What if the murder weapon was slipped down Claudius' throat by a malevolent doctor. A wife, a soldier, a eunuch, a doctor, two sons, and a plate of mushrooms tumbling to the floor.

The doctor at this table is Claudius' personal physician, Xenophon. He has measured and sharp blue eyes, set deep under heavy brows. They give him an air of quiet authority. He's in his early 50s. Not much is known about Xenophon from history. But there's a very specific account of Xenophon slipping a feather down Claudius' throat just before he died.

So maybe it wasn't a poison dish of food at all. Maybe Claudius was held down, his jaw wrenched open, and a poison feather pushed into his throat. Xenophon had been treating Claudius's ailments throughout his life. And in middle age, Claudius's healthments throughout his life. And in middle age, Claudius' health was degrading significantly.

It's possible that instead of poison in the dishes, Xenophon gave Claudius something that reacted badly. Was it a conspiracy that Xenophon delivered the fatal poison to subvert Helotus? Or did he accidentally overdose Claudius on medicine? Or was it possible that Xenophon and Agrippina had colluded to slowly poison Claudius over time, and tonight was just the night he succumbed?

We're not sure. Let's see what other details come to light to help us decide. What we are going to see is that with Claudius and declining health, it's very possible that the cunning people around the table saw the writing on the wall, secured their alliances, and set their fate. A fate when Claudius inevitably passed would be in the hands officially of one of his two sons.

Acropena could move the chess pieces around, but the title of emperor had to go to one, the boys. A wife, a soldier, a eunuch, a doctor, two sons, and a plate of mushrooms tumbling to the floor. This is Britannicus, his youngest, just shy of his 14th birthday. He has not grown yet into his full stature. He's framed by his short, tasseled, dark hair. His eyes wide and innocent.

He carries a shadow of uncertainty, knowing his fate hangs in the balance. "'Tis an unwedated garden that grows to see. Things rank and gross in nature possess it merely. It's 48 CE. We are in the gardens of Lucullus, crawling over nearly 20 acres on the slope of the Pensean Hill, a masterpiece of Roman landscaping. They're fed by a series of aqueducts that provide water to the numerous fountains over

there and these streams. They feed the figs and the olive and the pomegranate trees and alongside all of this blooming jasmine and the roses. The grandeur is unmatched in all of Rome, an ultimate symbol of wealth and luxury. Carefully tended terraces and statues that reflect power and elegance of the empire. Britannicus here, he's just nine years old. He's a scared little boy trying to make sense of the world around him. Something terrible is about to happen. His mother has been sentenced to take her own life.

There she is there, strikingly beautiful. Her usual solid veneer is shaking. Her name is Valeria of Messalina. She comes from a rich and powerful family, and she truly captured the dark imagination and gossip of Rome. While married to Claudius, she threw lavish orgies here in these imperial gardens, flaunting her sexual prowess and indulgences. And then, in a move that could only be described as utterly reckless. She married Gaius Sallus while still married to Emperor Claudius in a mock ceremony that

was instigating a type of soft coup. Claudius embarrassed, cuckolded, ordered her death. And as you can see, she doesn't have the courage to take her own life, so that enormous centurion will do it for her. Britannicus is a relatively mild and stable individual compared to the wild and bloodthirsty members of his family. He grew up in palace life only to watch his father execute his mother. And he was for a while the only successor to the Empire.

Did Britannicus resent his father for effectively killing his mother? It seems very reasonable. Did he look across this dining table every night at his stepbrother who hated him and a scheming stepmother and felt his own father couldn't protect him anymore. It's unlikely, but not impossible, that Britannicus poisoned his father for the revenge of his mother Valeria and then hoped he could curry enough favor to quickly install himself. But that's a lot for a 13-year-old boy.

And also, by this time, Claudius was starting to show Britannicus more favor. But he's just a boy. He lost his mother, his father is a drunk, who's now on the ground in pain. He's being intimidated by his vicious older brother, and he never stood a chance. He must have lived these moments in such fear and uncertainty. And you would too, if you had a stepbrother like Lucius? Look at him glare across the table, toying with a sharp, silver knife.

Let's look at the adopted son. He's 16 years old, and he hates his little brother. He's pompous, self-absorbed, and spoiled, and has inherited all of his mother's guile. His hair is light blonde, his eyes blue and somewhat menacing. His neck is over-thick, his belly prominent, his legs slender. A spoiled, older bully of a brother. Agrippina fawns over him and Buras is very protective of him. His name is Lucius, but you might know him better as Nero, future emperor of

Rome. Yes, the burning, fiddling Nero. Nero. He is the adopted son of Claudius. Agrippina had him before she was exiled to a different father. Just 16, he was already showing signs of impatience and cunning. He knew Claudius was on the decline, his health in trouble. It would only be a matter of time. His mother was already aligning the support he would need to take the imperial seat. And there was just one person in the way, his whiny little brother Britannicus, Claudius's biological son. Nero could have been impatient and gone around his mother's back. He could have bribed porters. It's entirely possible that Nero and Agrippina had discussions about how to rid the world of Claudius together. But maybe

Agrippina wanted to wait and Nero made other plans and Agrippina was just witness. We can imagine Agra Pina realizing what's happening while Nero has a smirk as his stepfather falls to the ground. Rome is a superstitious and mystical place. Sacrifices to gods, rituals and spells and Agra Pina practiced magic herself. Our reflections of the sorceress Morgana and her son Mordred from Arthurian legend. Both pairs deeply entwined and using sorcery for lust, betrayal and manipulation.

Enchantments, rituals and offerings to the gods. You see this snake bracelet on Nero's upper arm? That's a protection charm. When Valeria Messalina was still alive, she actually sent assassins to kill Nero, but they were scared off by a snake under his pillow. Well it turned out it was just a snakeskin, and Agrippina had it changed into a magic charm. She met with Susairs and made sacrifices. Did they predict Claudius' death?

She also had contacts in the underworld, and this is where things get very interesting. Did Agrippina turn to dark magic to rid Rome of her husband? There's someone else at this banquet that we didn't see before. They're looking at us from the shadows. We're in the back streets at the Tabernet. The shops at the Central Marketplace, the Forum Romanium, in the valley between the Capitoline and Palatine Hills. Normal trade of wares are out in the daylight, as you can see, but in the back rooms and

under cover are clandestine dealings. There was one collaborator in that dining hall, and we couldn't see her. But in a room in the back of this innocent herbarium is one of the most dangerous women in ancient Rome. She's a professional poisoner, and her name is Locusta. How much for these figs? Two. is Locusta. How much for these figs?

Two. Locusta is an enigmatic figure in Roman history. She is believed to have been born in Gaul, emerging from the city's criminal underworld in the first century. She became an expert in the deadly craft of poisoning, mastering the use of herbs, venoms, and toxins to create concoctions that could kill efficiency. Maybe Agrippina hired her,

or maybe Nero went behind his mother's back, or maybe Xenophon got his more potent elixirs from the dark markets. Locusta was so good at her trade that in the future, Nero and Agrippina will hire her again to craft a poison to kill poor little Britannicus. And then Nero, when he finally gets sick of his mother, will hire Locusta to poison her. But it doesn't work.

will hire Locusta to poison her, but it doesn't work. So we're pretty sure that Claudius' growing attachment to Britannicus threatened the future Agrippina had fought to secure for Nero. With Claudius alive, Britannicus would be his successor. The banquet surrounded by those Claudius trusted offered the moment for Agrippina to act decisively and ensure Nero's place on the throne. Locusta tainted a dish of mushrooms, Claudius' favorite,

laced with a carefully crafted poison. The emperor, unaware of the danger, ate the meal that would lead to his slow and painful death, clearing the way for Nero's rise. If Agrippina knew that mushrooms were Claudius's favorite meal, they would be the subtle delivery device for his undoing. A wife, a soldier, a eunuch, a doctor, two sons, and a poisoner looking from the shadows. So we've met all of the dinner guests, but we haven't been introduced to this deadly plate of mushrooms.

So exactly what is it that we're looking at spilling on the floor? Let's have a look at this little mushroom. What if I told you that the death cap mushroom isn't even a plant, but an alien species from space bent on world domination? Plant murder will return after these special messages. Welcome back to Plant Murder. Claudius vs. the Death Cap Mushroom.

October 13th, 54 CE. Roman Emperor Claudius, of failing health, forces aligning against him. The stresses of managing a growing empire on his shoulders indulged his appetites in a great dinner. And it is well known that at that dinner, he was poisoned by a plate of death-capped mushrooms. We're in the Seminian forest on a moonlit night. It's an ancient woodland located to the north of Rome, near modern-day The Turbo.

It's dense and mysterious. The death cap mushroom, which thrives in wooded areas with broadleaf trees such as oak and chestnut, is found here. And we need to be quiet, as that hooded figure there is collecting them under the cover of night. If you're the type of person who might scold me for calling a mushroom a plant, then we're in the right place. They are a fungus, and they have their own kingdom.

Mushrooms are closer to animals than plants. These cell walls of the mushroom are made of chitin, the same substance found in the exoskeletons of insects. They breathe in oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide. Unlike plants, which produce their own food, mushrooms lack chlorophyll. They get nutrients from organic matter. So we'll carry forth, and we'll treat this little mushroom

as a plant pro tempore, for the purpose of this episode. So this is Amanita phylloides. I'm not casting a spell. It's a deadly death cap mushroom. They're easily mistaken from edible varieties, and they're responsible for 90% of all mushroom-related fatalities. The poison works slowly, often taking days to claim its victims.

They have been transported around the world, spreading this little lethal fungus far beyond its native forests, expanding its empire. Are you ready for a conspiracy? Did aliens kill Claudius? Don't laugh. Recently, they hooked up a mushroom to a robot body and it quickly figured out how to crawl. Mushroom spores have been found at every layer of our atmosphere, and they are so resilient they could survive in the vacuum of space.

If you entertain the theory of panspermia, you might wonder if spores traveled here from distant galaxies, alien invaders quietly establishing a foothold on Earth. And if you enjoy a good paranormal conspiracy, perhaps you'll indulge in the idea that mushrooms have a vast underground network, a biological telegraph system through which they can communicate and manipulate events on a global scale.

Even by Roman intrigue, it's a stretch of any imagination. But who am I to dismiss the mysteries of the natural world? What I do know is this. Never forage for mushrooms unless you know what you are doing. The death cap has led to countless fatalities throughout history. These guys have taken down figures as prominent as Pope Clement VII, King Charles VI of France, and composer Johann Schobert, among others. Now you might want to pay attention to this part. The poisoning from death cap mushrooms begins with mild symptoms.

They usually appear 6-12 hours after ingestion. The initial signs include nausea, vomiting, and pain in the abdomen. So these symptoms may subside for a brief period, which is a false sense of recovery. As the toxins continue to damage the liver and kidneys, more symptoms emerge, including jaundice, confusion. Without treatment, liver and kidney failure can occur. They lead to coma and death within seven to ten days. But something doesn't completely add up, does it? Hold on to that for later. To Romans, the hedonists, food was a celebration, and the rich loved to eat mushrooms.

So was it Claudius's fourth wife, the calculating and mysterious Agrippina, which orchestrated the deadly feast in which she slipped the death cap mushrooms into the dining hall? Lurking poison and treacherous wounds are more to be feared than open warfare. A wife, by political convenience. His niece, an awkward, incestuous relationship. And a woman that ruled in parallel. Obsessed with placing her son as emperor. A soldier, Burrus. Not just a soldier, his bodyguard,

in charge of his personal safety, loyal to Nero and Agrippina. A lotus. Not just a eunuch, but the royal food taster, in charge of his safety, who might have looked the other way. A doctor, a physician, Xenophon, in charge of his failing health and might have delivered the killer blow.

A biological son, Britannicus, 13, who was threatened by his older brother being pushed out and was shrewd enough to know the writing was on the wall. An adopted son, 17, who was a little boy, brother, being pushed out, and was shrewd enough to know the writing was on the wall. An adopted son, Seventeen, Nero, cunning and impatient, and ended Claudius to get his hands on the imperial seat. Locusta, a poisoner in the shadows who loved her trade. And a mushroom that's not a plant, but a lethal fungus.

The circumstances of Claudius' death were recorded by three historians, Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio, much later than the events in question. Tacitus tells us the tale of conspiracy, that Agrippina, Helodis and Locusta, and even Xenophon, the court physician, are all embroiled. And here is the actual account from Tacitus.

Under this great burden of anxiety, Glorious had an attack of illness and went to Syngesa to recruit his strength with his balmy climate and salubrious waters. Thereupon Agrippina, who had long decided on the crime and eagerly grasped at the opportunity thus offered, and did not lack instruments, deliberated on the nature of the poison to be used. The deed would be betrayed by one that was sudden and instantaneous, while if she chose a slow, lingering poison,

was a fear that Claudius, when near his end, might, on detecting the treachery, return her his love for his son. She decided on some rare compound which might derange his mind and delay his death. A person skilled in such matters was selected, Lucosta, by name, who had lately been condemned for poisoning and had long been retained as one of the tools of despotism. By this woman's art, the poison was prepared, and it was to be administered by a eunuch, a lotus, who was accustomed to bring in and taste the dishes. All the circumstances were subsequently so well known that writers of the time have declared that the poison was infused into some mushrooms, a favorite delicacy, and its effect not at the instant perceived from the emperor's lethargic or intoxicated condition. His bowels, too, were relieved, and this seemed

to have saved him. Agrippina was thoroughly dismayed. Fearing the worst and defying the immediate obloquy of the deed, she availed herself of the complicity of Xenophon, the Before dawn, Claudius crimes are perilous in their inception, but well rewarded after their consummation. Before dawn, Claudius was dead. The relatively stable era of Claudius came to an end, and the horrors of the reign of Nero were just beginning. Claudius, the unexpected emperor of Rome. What we can see is that Claudius was somewhat of a historical punching bag to which everyone took a swing.

He was mocked and dismissed. Even Seneca, philosopher, playwright, and advisor, hated Claudius, and recorded his last words as, Vame puto concave me. Oh, I think I have shit myself. Crime, once exposed, has no refuge but audacity. Claudius seemed to take to rule when Rome needed it most. A patient and thoughtful man, bookended between two crazed, indulgent, and bloodthirsty rulers,

Caligula and Nero. For thirteen years, the stammering, bullied, and cast-off Claudius, righted the ship, refilled the coffers, and did what no other emperor was able to do. He pierced the white shores of Britain. He created a settlement fifty miles inland from the mouth of the Thames, at the shallowest crossing known as Londinium That one day would become the thriving city we know is London Claudius had 35 senators and 400 others executed or forced into suicide Did he himself drop his guard, knowing that Agrippina would someday arrange his end an

aspen a box, a dagger in the bath, or a deceptive mushroom hidden in his favorite dish? He was betrayed by those he trusted most. And as historians have agreed, Agrippina did it. With her cadre of conspirators, it was almost everyone at the table. It would take collusion to accomplish the task. And why? To secure Nero in the throne and block Britannicus. Can't you see that satisfied look on her face? It seemed straightforward, a well-accepted tale seemingly commonplace in the post-Republic era

of ancient Rome. I tricked you and laid out a mystery, but it was obvious all along. Done and dusted, Tacitus was right. Now we can all go home. But just one moment. What if she didn't... Give me my robe. Put on my crown. I have immortal longings in me. We've taken a long walk, but clever detectives will see that there are some holes in this story. Let's break it down. Can we exonerate Agrippina? Can we exonerate Agrippina? What if Claudius accidentally poisoned himself? Or what if he died of ill health, and the historians just had a flare for the dramatic?

Almost out of a sense of habit. As we look deeper, we find that much of the official account may be more myth than reality. Exhibit A. Agrippina's Motive To Secure the Ascension of Nero as Emperor Agrippina was already a co-ruler of Rome with her son in the line of secession. What did she gain from a premature poisoning? Why would she be in such a hurry? In 54 CE, Nero's secession was already secure. Claudius had taken significant steps to elevate Nero.

His adoption into the Claudian gens, his marriage to his daughter Octavia, and a conferral of proconsular powers. Nero had been named leader of the youth, a signal of his future as emperor. Agrippina had little to gain from Claudius' premature death and much to lose by risking a hasty transition. And if we look at Nero himself as a teenager,

there's no overt evidence that he had a lust for ultimate power. He was more interested in acting and performing in chariot races. He was intensely unequipped for emperor for at least five years after Claudius died. He had a rivalry with Britannicus, who he killed eventually, but he didn't seem concerned while Claudius was alive. If Agrippina had planned Claudius' murder,

wouldn't she have ensured a smooth and swift transition for Nero? But instead, Agrippina scrambled to prepare for the transition. They delayed the announcement for days. Claudius' death looks like it was unexpected, not the result of a carefully orchestrated plot. Exhibit B. Halotus and Xenophon Both Halotus and Xenophon Both Halotus and Xenophon had successful careers after Claudius' death, which would make their collusion in an assassination unlikely, as they would have been loose ends. And after that, who else would have trusted them?

And if we look at the notorious feather, perhaps Xenophon had used it to test Claudius' reflexes, or to make him vomit up what he thought was poisoned food, or perhaps Xenophon used a feather to give Claudius a quick end and ease his suffering. Exhibit C. The Mushroom Theory Here is the biggest hole in the account, the death cap mushroom. If we look closer at the symptoms we discussed before, do they align with the timeline of Claudius' death? Vomiting and diarrhea appear 6 to 24 hours after ingestion, not directly during a meal. That's either a very long banquet, or Claudius ate the mushrooms before the dinner with his family.

Given Claudius's known indulgence in food and drink, it's plausible that he could have unknowingly consumed deadly fungus earlier in the day, or the day before, leading to his sudden collapse. He was known to snack frequently, even yelling out, I beseech thee, how can one live without a snack? He could have just scarfed down the wrong ones by accident, completely slipping it past Helodis. And something about the death cap also doesn't add up.

Only Claudius was affected, no one else at the banquet. Some accounts even state that Agrippina ate from the same dish. Odysseus' health was precarious his entire life. He suffered from many ailments, including possibly dystonia, a neurological condition. That condition would make him vulnerable to the effects of muscarine, a toxin found not in the death cap but in amenida muscaria, which can cause severe reactions, especially when combined with alcohol.

Given Roman dining culture, where wine flowed, the combination of muscarina and alcohol could have led to a rapid and fatal reaction in Claudius, who might have been the only one affected at the dinner, due to his health issues. And finally, the questionable narrative. Tacitus and Seutonius are our primary sources for this period, but they had their own biases. Tacitus in particular had a penchant for depicting women as manipulative and dangerous. Tacitus seems to relish in framing women as scheming and challenging the power base of Rome.

It might have been easier to simply repeat themes from previous assassinations. Writers cannibalize their works all the time. Did Tacitus, like Shakespeare, repeat common narratives to make his writing easier? The idea of a grand conspiracy is appealing, it's dramatic, and it fits neatly into the Roman tradition of intrigue. But when we look at what we know, it's just as plausible, if not more so, that Claudius' death was a tragic accident. Roman society was rife with rumors, and the notion of Agrippina as a villainous poisoner fits too conveniently into the stereotype. Therefore, there is room for doubt. And here's what's missing from this story of poisoning.

Here's possibly a more important question. What if Agrippina was a better emperor than Claudius? Claudius was in some ways an effective ruler. He built roads and ports and expanded into new territory. But in others, he seemed a bit timid and mushy. And along comes Agrippina the Younger, who just maybe wanted it more. She was the only empress to appear on coins while she was still alive. She wore military garb in public and projected more confidence and strength than he did.

Maybe not a better emperor, but maybe a character more suited to the brutal environment of dynastic struggle. Maybe Agrippina has been judged harshly by history, suggesting her marriage to a weak emperor who was, because of his hesitations and terrors, a threat to the imperial authority and government. And since emperor was a male-only station, she ruled from behind Claudius and positioned her son Nero in secession, who she probably thought she could control, but he was consumed with his own stardom. It's possible Claudius ate a snack and died and Agrippina just dusted her hands and said,

well, that was a freebie. Oh, she might have actually been fond of the old stammering fool a little. Who knows? Given her own past, she might not have known love herself. I saw something familiar in Claudius and someone else who'd been kicked around a bit. Maybe she'd dreamed it all up, staring across at the guy every night. It all starts with a good plan, but then she sees the poor fool hunched on the ground and choking, and there's a swell of remorse.

I'd like to think that. But you look at the list of untimely deaths associated with Agrippina, and it's pretty impressive. It's very cutthroat in a strategic sense. 12, allegedly, including Valeria Messalina. That's right, Britannicus' mother, paving the way for her marriage. Or maybe it was all dark magic and alien mushrooms bent on world domination. History has not been kind to Claudius.

Shakespeare immortalized him as the incestuous and murderous villain of Hamlet, the uncle who killed the father and married the mother of the troubled Dane. But can you imagine the difficulty growing up, like Claudius, being bullied every day of your life, in that environment, and then having to ascend to leadership while still suffering such slights, no matter what you did? Almost like King George VI, whose childhood stammer accompanied him to his leadership in the dawn of the Second World War. Why is this such a common theme for us?

Perhaps in this modern era of imposter syndrome, we all feel like fakes, less equipped than the shining, confident gods around us. Pillars, confidently seizing power and enthralling others. It's the one tale of the underdog, born into exceptional privilege and possibly the only members of elite families to which we can summon any empathy. An afflicted man whose great work was ignored

or an unstoppable woman who was kept from the most powerful position in the known world. In the end, what do we truly know? Was Claudius the emperor who never wanted the throne, finally undone by a dish he loved, or by the woman who was a better emperor than he was? History may tell us one thing, but the truth, that may be buried

like the mycelium of the deadly mushroom beneath the surface. A woman who survived her entire family, serving a tiny mushroom who packs a lethal punch, nibbled at the table by a man who rose above afflictions in a time and place that was not sympathetic to any. Maybe not the noblest, not the most sure-footed or moral, but survivors, ones that embed themselves

in the great roots of power, in the shade of trunks, symbiotic with the environment and consumed in the threads of forces greater than themselves. Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, Agrippina the Younger, and Amanita Phylloides, the Deathcap Mushroom. I am Aaron J Reardon and this has been Plant Murder, Claudius vs the Death Cat Mushroom To listen to more of Plant Murder and check out their other content, please search Plant Murder wherever you get your podcasts. Or click the link in the description of this episode and as always you can visit RustyQuill.com for more information.

Or you can find the creator behind Plant Murder on Twitter at It's Mr Toad, or on their Patreon at www.patreon.com forward slash Cleverthon, that's C-L-E-V-E-R-T-H-A-N, Cleverthon, where they have clues, extras, polls, and discussions. Thanks for listening.