GARGANTUA'S MARE SCORES A VICTORY.
[Illustration: Initial T.]
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."
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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:--
[Illustration: 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."
[Illustration: 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.