Gladly the innkeeper put
at Basil's disposal his one covered carriage, a trifle cleaner
inside than it was without, and a couple of saddle horses, declared
to be Sicilian, but advanced in age. Thus, with slight delay, the
party pursued their journey, Basil and his man riding before the
carriage. The road ran coastwise as far as the Julian haven, once
thronged with the shipping of the Roman world, now all but abandoned
to a few fishermen; there it turned inland, skirted the Lucrine
water, and presently reached the shore of Lake Avernus, where was
the entrance to the long tunnel piercing the hill between the lake
and Cumae. On an ill-kept way, under a low vault of rock dripping
moisture, the carriage with difficulty tossed and rumbled through
the gloom. Basil impatiently trotted on, and, as he issued into
sunlight, there before him stood the walls of the ancient city,
round about that little hill by the sea which, in an age remote, had
been chosen for their abode by the first Hellenes tempted to the
land of Italy. High above rose the acropolis, a frowning stronghold.
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