and the country
around, once famous for its fertility, showed but a few poor farms.
What inhabitants remained dwelt at the foot of the great hill on whose
summit rose the citadel, still united with the town by two great walls.
After passing between the tombs on the Latin Way, memorials of citizens
long dead, the travellers entered by an unprotected gateway, and here
Venantius called a halt. Wishing to make no longer pause than was
needful to put the sick man in safety, he despatched a few soldiers
through the silent town to seek for means of conveying Basil up to the
monastery on the height. By good luck these emissaries came upon a
couple of monks, who lost no time in arranging for the conveyance of
the sufferer. A light cart drawn by two mules speedily appeared, and on
this Basil was laid. One only of his men did Venantius allow to
accompany him, the others were bidden ride on with the captain's own
soldiers to Aesernia.

'There you will find us all when you are on your legs again,' said
Venantius, 'unless by that time we have marched Romewards, in which
case you shall have a message. Trust me to look after all you left
there; I answer for its safety and for that of your good fellows. Keep
up heart, and God make you sound.'

Basil, couched on a bed of dry leaves, raised himself so as to watch
the troop as it rode forth again from the ruined gate. Whether she who
sat hidden within the carriage had heard of his evil plight he knew
not, and could not have brought himself to ask. The last of his own
horsemen (some of whom had taken leave of him with tears) having
vanished from sight, he fell back, and for a while knew nothing but the
burning torment in his brain.

The ascent of the mountain began. It was a rough, narrow road, winding
through a thick forest of oak and beech trees, here and there so steep
as to try the firm footing of the mules, and in places dangerous
because of broken ground on the edge of precipitous declivities. The
cart was driven by its owner, a peasant of Casinum, who at times sat
sideways on one of the beasts, at times walked by them; behind came the
two religious men, cowled, bare-footed; and last Basil's attendant on
horseback.

From Venantius the monks had learned who their charge was. His noble
origin, and still more the fact of his kindred with their beloved Abbot
Benedict, inspired in them a special interest. They spoke of him in
whispers together, compassionated his sufferings, remarked