On this morning a new woman in a shawl that covered her head and obscured her face brought him his breakfast to his room, but then the master of the house often changed his servants, so Vercingetorix thought nothing of it. Although this woman in her mid thirties somehow looked familiar, but this was soon forgotten as he washed and then consumed some of the bread and fruit she had left on the table in the sparsely furnished quarters.
But what our King didn’t know is that the food was poisoned with a concoction designed by the druid Guttuart, and by the evening Vercingetorix became ill.
The masters personal physician was called on, but he could not diagnose what caused the sickness.

For a week this went on, and the owner of the house became scared that Vercingetorix was going to die, so he sent a messenger south to find Ceasar. It would be most unfortunate if the great generals finest capture was to die before he could be executed in public, so the messenger was told to speed with great haste and stop for nothing or nobody.

”That’s ridiculous! Why would a druid poison our own king?” Someone amongst the gathering listeners cried out.
This outburst caused the crowd to admonish the perpetrator of the interruption with loud and curt motions for silence.
The bard took this encouragement to continue the tale.