“How do you know such things?” she demanded breathlessly. “I…I heard an old traveling midwife talking to our midwife up to the keep,” I improvised. “It was…a sad story she told, of an injured man given some to help him rest, but his baby got into it as well. A very, very sad story.” Her face was softening and I felt her warming toward me again. “I only tell it to be sure you are careful of the root. Don’t leave it about where any child can get at it.”
