this was the army that followed gargantua at daybreak and came up with him at the ford of vede. gargantua was commander-in-chief in place of grandgousier, who, being old, of course stayed at home. but that was a glorious early breakfast which the old king gave to the soldiers before they left; and he made it more glorious by promising great gifts to every man who would do some wonderful act of prowess. "they will not have a chance to do anything," he whispered confidentially to his chief butler, whom he had raised to a level with his mouth. "my boy will be there!"
the army crossed the ford in boats and on bridges lightly made over smaller boats, which dipped to the water's edge as the soldiers passed over. after a short march they came upon the city, which was placed upon a high hill. there they halted. gargantua called a council, and with his friends discussed all night what was best to be done next morning. gymnaste was the first to speak to the point.
"my lord," he said, "i am in favor of attacking at once. you will do so if you know those french fellows as well as i do. they are terrible foes at the first assault, when they are worse than so many devils. but if they are kept idle, and dream too long of their sweethearts and their vines, they lose heart, and become worse than so many women."
gargantua was nodding approval all the time gymnaste was speaking. he was quite sure, in his own mind, that, when once he would show himself on his great mare, and with his huge tree held as a lance, picrochole would lose the field. but he had no idea of putting himself forward just then. so he said nothing more than: "so be it! we advance at daylight."
engraving
mounting for the fray.
the advance-guard were stationed on the hill-side, while the main army remained on the plain. faithful friar john took with him six companies of infantry and two hundred horsemen, and, with all speed, crossed the marsh, and gained, on the highway of london, a point just above the castle. while the assault was going on, picrochole and his people didn't know at first which was better: whether to march out from the castle, resolved to conquer or to die, or to stay in the city, and let the enemy outside do their worst. at last picrochole himself grew tired. he had done nothing during the whole war but take care of his own precious body behind the walls of the city, while his officers and soldiers slashed and killed the poor subjects of grandgousier at their will. he had not heard a whisper of how gargantua had come all the way from paris, and was then actually in front. he swore roundly, over his cups, that gargantua was not there, or he would have heard of it long before. "ha! ha! giants are too big to hide themselves. victory shall be ours!" he cried.
engraving
the assault.
this was what made picrochole bold enough to make an attack. once beyond the gate, he and his army were received with such a welcome of cannon-balls that they were for a moment confused. picrochole looked around for the gargantuists; he couldn't see one of them, as friar john had taken his men back with him to the hills, so as to give the artillery room to work. encouraged by this, picrochole defended himself so bravely under the terrible fires, and advanced so steadily all the time on the guns, that the gunners were obliged to flee for their lives, and friar john himself found it hard to keep him from charging over his small force.
"oh, ho! friar john," he muttered to himself, "thou thinkest thyself a fine soldier, truly! but it is high time now to call the giant." so he shouted with the full strength of his sturdy lungs:—
"help! help! help! prince gargantua to the rescue!"
one might live to be as old as methuselah, and never see such a change in either a general or his army as that which took place in king picrochole and his troops when they first heard the friar's cry. the guns dropped from their hands, and all they could do was to turn with white faces and staring eyes towards the opening in the wood.
then appeared a fearful apparition!
it was that of the giant, holding, poised as a lance, the trunk of an enormous tree stripped bare of its branches; his eyeballs swollen and blazing with anger; his legs drawn tight to the saddle, while he gave free rein to his mare, and dashed with the speed of a cyclone straight down upon them. the mare seemed as mad as the master, for smoke rolled and curled around her wide-open nostrils; she gave short and horrible neighs, as if she couldn't get to picrochole's rogues fast enough; her mane was stiff and hard, while her broad tail, streaming like a comet behind her, whisked men right and left, high into the air, and jerked down such trees as were in the way as she swept thundering down the hill. so terrible a sight changed the whole field. for a moment or two the enemy seemed stunned. but, as the dreadful mare came near and nearer, picrochole's cowardice broke the fearful spell that had come upon himself and men. "it is the giant!" he shouted; "save himself who can!" and dashed back into the open gates of the city, intending to escape, through another gate, into the country beyond. "the mare! the mare! save us from the mare!" was all the poor men, as they tried to follow their king, could gasp.
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picrochole defends the castle.
some were lucky enough to gain the city-gates. but before gargantua could rein in his powerful steed, she had bitten and trampled many to death, to say nothing of those she had swept into the air with her great tail. gargantua had good reason to be pleased with his victory. it was a decisive one, and gained by himself alone, and the mare. he rode all over the field, petting the good mare meanwhile, and never ceasing to look among the killed for picrochole. of every officer that returned from pursuit of those who tried to escape he asked:—
plate
the defeat of picrochole.
"hast thou caught picrochole?"
no, nobody had.
"with all my heart i am sorry," said gargantua, "that picrochole is not here. for i would have made this little king know that it was not for any riches or for my name that this war was made. as he is lost, let the kingdom remain with his son. but, as this child is not yet five years old, he should have governors. let ponocrates govern those governors."
engraving
the flight of picrochole.
then, under his breath, the giant muttered:—
"ho! a pretty king, this picrochole, to be lost in battle." and a giant's mutter is louder than a small man's shout.
