"Well," said Frank, "I"m in for any curiosity. But how long will it take for us to see it?"
"It will take more dan one hour," said the guide.
"More than an hour!" said Frank. "Hm--that won"t do--we"ve got to go back at once to get our dinner. It"s ready by this time, and then we must leave for Rome."
"Well, it"s a great pity," said David, sadly. "I think I should be willing to go without my dinner, to see that wonderful tunnel."
"I shouldn"t, then," said Frank, "not for all the tunnels in the world."
"Nor should I," said Bob.
"But what a magnificent effect the lake has when embraced in our view!" said Clive. "How finely is the description in Childe Harold adapted to this scene--
"And near, Albano"s scarce divided waves Shine from a sister valley; and afar The Tiber winds, and the broad ocean laves The Latian coast, where sprung the Epic war, "Arms and the man," whose reascending star Rose o"er an empire; but beneath thy right Fully reposed from Rome; and where yon bar Of girdling mountains intercepts thy sight, The Sabine farm was tilled, the weary bard"s delight."
"Clive," said David, who had waited patiently for him to finish his poetical quotation, "you"ll come--won"t you?"
"Come? Come where?"
"Why, I want to visit the tunnel of the Alban Lake, and it"ll take an hour to do it. If we go, we"ll lose our dinner. What do you say?
You don"t think a dinner"s the most important thing in the world?"
"Of course not," said Clive. "Besides, we can pick up some sc.r.a.ps when we return, and eat them in the carriage."
"That"s right," said David. "Boys," he continued, appealing to Frank and Bob, "you"d better come."
"What! and lose our dinners?" cried Frank, scornfully. "Catch us at it. No. We require more substantial food than poetry and old ruins. Don"t we, Bob?"
"Certainly," said Bob. "For my part poetry and old ruins never were in my line. As for "Arms and the man" and the "Sabine farm," why, all I can say is, I always hated them. I detested Virgil, and Horace, and Cicero, and the whole lot of them, at school; and why I should turn round now, and pretend to like them, I don"t know, I"m sure. Horace and Virgil, indeed! Bother Horace and Virgil, I say."
At such flippancy as this both David and Clive looked too much pained to reply. They turned away in silence, and spoke to the guide.
"So you"re not coming back to dinner?" said Frank.
"No," said David; "we want to see that tunnel."
"Well, you"ll lose your dinner; that"s all."
"Of course. We don"t care."
"At any rate, don"t go and forget about us. We want to leave, for Rome after dinner, and you ought to be back in one hour, at the very farthest."
"O, yes; the guide says it"ll only take an hour. We don"t intend to spend any more time there than we can help."
"Well, I think you ought to come back," said Bob; "you know very well how poor old Uncle Moses will fidget and worry about you."
"O, no; it"s all right. Tell him that the guide is with us, you know."
After a few more words, Frank and Bob, who were ravenously hungry, hurried back to the hotel, and David and Clive, who were also, to tell the truth, equally hungry, resisted their appet.i.tes as well as they were able, and accompanied their guide to the Lake Albano.
Most boys are familiar with the story of the Alban Lake; but for the benefit of those who may not have heard of it, or who, having heard, have forgotten, it may be as well to give a brief account of the famous tunnel, which was so very attractive to Clive and David.
The city of Veii had been besieged for nine years, without success, by the Romans; and at length, in the tenth year, a great prodigy occurred, in the shape of the sudden rising of the waters of the Alban Lake to an extraordinary height, without any apparent cause.
The Romans, in their bewilderment, sent a messenger to the oracle of Delphi to inquire about it. Before this messenger returned, they also captured a Verentine priest, who informed them that there were certain oracular books in Veii, which declared that Veii could never perish unless the waters of the Alban Lake should reach the sea. Not long afterwards the messenger returned from Delphi, who brought back an answer from the oracle at that place to the same effect. Upon this, the Romans resolved to draw off the waters of the lake so as to let them flow to the sea. Such an undertaking was one of the most laborious kind, especially in an age like that; but the Romans entered upon it, and worked at it with that extraordinary tenacity of purpose which always distinguished them. It was necessary to cut a tunnel through the mountain, through rock of the hardest possible description.
But the same age had seen the excavation of other subterranean pa.s.sages far larger than this, and in the same country, preeminently the Grotto of Posilipo, at Naples, and that of the c.u.maean Sibyl, and at length it was accomplished. The people of Veii heard of it, and were filled with alarm. Amba.s.sadors were sent to Rome, with the hope of inducing the Romans to come to some other terms less severe than the surrender of the city; but they were disappointed, and according to the legend, could only comfort themselves by announcing to the Romans a prophecy in the oracular books of Veii, to the effect that, if this siege should be carried through to the capture of the city, Rome itself should be taken by the Gauls soon after. This prophecy, however, had no effect.
whatever upon the stern resolution of the Romans.
The subterranean pa.s.sage to the lake was also supplemented by another, which led to the citadel of Veii. As the time approached for the final a.s.sault, the Roman Senate invited all the Roman people to partic.i.p.ate in it, and promised them a share of the booty. This promise induced a vast mult.i.tude, old and young, to go there. The time at last came. The water of the Alban Lake was let out into the fields, and the party that entered the subterranean pa.s.sage to the citadel were led by Camillus, while, at the same time, a general a.s.sault was made upon the walls by the rest of the army. At that moment the king of Veii happened to be sacrificing in the Temple of Juno, which was in the citadel, and Camillus, with his Romans, were immediately beneath, close enough to hear what he said. It happened that the attendant priest declared that whoever should bring the G.o.ddess her share of the victim should conquer. Camillus heard the words, and at once they burst forth upon the astonished Veientans, seized upon the altar, offered the sacrifice, and thus performed what had been declared to be the conditions of victory.
After this they held the citadel, and sent a detachment to open the gates to the a.s.saulting army outside. Thus Veil fell; and this is the legend which, like many others belonging to early Roman times, is more full of poetry than of truth.
The tunnel still remains, and is one of the chief curiosities left from ancient times. It is about two miles long, six feet high, and three and a half feet wide.
To this place the guide led David and Clive, and entertained them on the way with the account of its origin, which accorded in most particulars with that which is given above; and though both of the boys were familiar with the story, yet it was not unpleasant to hear it again, told by one who lived in the neighborhood of the place, and had pa.s.sed his life amid these scenes. It seemed to them to give a certain degree of authenticity to the old legend.
There was not much to see, except an opening in the rock, the mouth of the tunnel, with rushes, and mosses, and gra.s.ses, and shrubbery growing around it. Having seen it, they were satisfied, and turned to go back to the hotel. After a short distance, the guide showed them where there was a path turning off through the fields, which formed a short cut back. Upon this they paid him for his trouble, and he went back to the convent, while they went along the path by which he had directed them.
CHAPTER XXV.
_The lonely Path.--The sequestered Vale.--The old House.--A Feudal Castle.--A baronial Windmill.--A mysterious Sound.--A terrible Discovery.--At Bay.--The Wild Beasts Lair!--What is It!--A great Bore!_
The path by which Clive and David returned to the hotel, went down a slope of the hill into a valley, and led over a second hill, beyond which was Albano. There were no houses visible, for the town was hidden by the hill, except, of course, the convent, which, from its conspicuous position, was never out of sight. As they descended into the valley, they came to a grove of olive trees; and beyond this there was a ruined edifice, built of stone, and apparently long since deserted. It was two stories in height, but the stories were high, and it looked as though it might once have been used, for a tower of some sort. The attention of both of the boys was at once arrested by it, and they stood and looked at it for some time.
"I wonder what it has been," said David.
"No doubt," said Clive, "it is the ruin of some mediaeval castle."
"It does not have much of the look of a castle."
"Why not?"
"O, why, there are no architectural features in it; no battlements; it has, in fact, a rather modern air."
"Not a bit of it," said Clive. "See those old stones grown over with moss; and look at the ivy."
"Yes, but look at the windows. They didn"t have such large windows in castles, you know."
"Yes, but these windows were probably made afterwards. The place was once a castle; but at length, of course it became deserted, and began to fall to ruins. Then somebody fixed it tip for a dwelling-house, and made these windows in the walls."
"Well, that"s not improbable."
"Not improbable! Why, I"m sure it"s very natural. Look how thick the walls are!"
"They do seem pretty thick."
"O, they are real castle walls; there"s no doubt at all about that,"