astello or little walled town
which bore that name was built on the highest peak of the ridge, inside
strong brown stone walls with square towers. So rough and steep was
this portion of the ridge that the crowded houses, with their red roofs
and white gables, were piled up one behind another, and many of the
streets were narrow staircases, climbing up between the houses to the
blue sky.

On the top the hill was flat, and there the Cathedral stood, and from
her niche above the great west entrance the beautiful statue of the
Madonna with the Babe in her arms looked across the square, and over
the huddled red roofs, and far away out to the hills and valleys with
their evergreen oaks and plantations of grey olives, and bright
cornfields and vineyards.

On three sides the town was sheltered by hills, but a very deep ravine
separated them from the ridge, so that on those three sides it was
impossible for an enemy to attack the town. On the nearest hills great
pine woods grew far up the slopes, and sheltered it from the east winds
which blew over the snowy peaks.

Now on the southern side of the square stood the houses of the Syndic
and other wealthy citizens, with open colonnades of carved yellow
stone; and all about the piazza at intervals there were orange-trees
and pomegranates, growing in huge jars of red earthenware.

This had been the children's playground as long as any one could
remember, but in the days of the blessed Frate Agnolo the Syndic was a
grim, childless, irascible old man, terribly plagued with gout, which
made him so choleric that he could not endure the joyous cries and
clatter of the children at their play. So at last in his irritation he
gave orders that, if the children must play at all, it would have to be
in their own dull narrow alleys paved with hard rock, or outside beyond
the walls of the castello. For their part the youngsters would have
been glad enough to escape into the green country among the broom and
cypress, the red snapdragon and golden asters and blue pimpernels, but
these were wild and dangerous times, and at any moment a troop of
Free-lances from Pisa or a band of Lucchese raiders might have swept
down and carried them off into captivity.

They had therefore to sit about their own doors, and the piazza of the
Cathedral became strangely silent in the summer evenings, and there was
a feeling of dulness and discontent in the little town. Never a whit
better off was the Syndic,