THE STRANGE WAY IN WHICH PANTAGRUEL OBTAINED A VICTORY OVER THE THIRSTY
PEOPLE.
[Illustration: Initial W.]
When the trophy had been raised, Pantagruel had his prisoner brought
before him and sent him away with these words:--
"Get thee back to thy King in his camp, and tell him what thou hast
seen. Be sure you tell him to be ready to welcome me to-morrow, at
noon. All I am waiting for are my galleys, which, are on the sea. As
soon as they come, which will be to-morrow morning, at the very latest,
I shall prove to thy King, by eighteen hundred thousand men and seven
thousand giants,--each of those giants taller and larger than thou
see'st me here,--that he has been an idiot to attack my country."
Of course, in all this talk about having an army on the sea, Pantagruel
was only trying to frighten the King of the Thirsty People.
The prisoner made haste to assure Pantagruel that he was his humble
slave, and that he would be only too glad, not only if he never should
see his people again, but, also, if he should be allowed to fight under
the Prince against them. Pantagruel shook his great head at this. No!
no! he must leave at once, and do what he had been told to do. He gave
him at the same time a box full of a strange paste, made with some
grains of black chameleon-thistle, steeped in brandy, ordering him to
place this in the hands of his King, and say to him that, if he could
eat even one ounce of the mixture without wanting to drink after it, he
would be able to resist Pantagruel and his whole army without fear.
[Illustration: THE KING OF THE THIRSTY PEOPLE.]
Then the prisoner began to wring his hands, begging Pantagruel in the
hour of battle to have pity on him.
"After thou hast announced all to thy King," answered Pantagruel,
gravely, "put all thy trust in God, and He will never forsake thee.
Look at me! I am, as thou canst see, mighty. I can put millions of
troops in the field. Yet I place no reliance on my strength or my skill;
but all my trust is in God, my protector, who never abandons those who
have their faith in Him. Go, then," he added more kindly, "and, if thou
wishest no evil to happen to thee, turn thy back on bad company."
When the prisoner had at last got away, the good Giant turned to his
friends, saying: "My children, you know that I do not tell lies; but it
is always lawful in war to deceive an enemy. This is why I have made
that prisoner believe we had armies on the sea, and, also, that we were
not going to make an assault on their camp till to-morrow at noon. But
I have sent a paste that will put them all to sleep to-night, so that
they will not be prepared to receive my attack to-morrow, at noon. My
real purpose is to attack their camp in the hour of their first nap."
But the prisoner--knowing nothing of all this side-talk--walked quickly
towards the city, which he soon reached, as you already know it was
only three leagues from the coast. As soon as he saw the King, he
began the story of how there had come a great Giant, who had routed
and caused to be cruelly roasted alive, six hundred and fifty-nine
horsemen; and how he, alone of all the troop, had escaped to bring the
terrible news. He then went on to state that that wonderful Giant had
charged him to say that he would look on His Majesty at dinner-time,
and wanted him to make ready for him. Then he presented the box of
paste, but, just as soon as the King had swallowed one spoonful, his
throat started to burn, and, after a while, his very tongue began
to peel off. What was to be done? There was only one way out of the
trouble, and that was for the King to drink--drink--drink, without
stopping! The result was that everybody was bringing the King wine, and
pouring it down his royal throat; and if ever he stopped, the royal
throat began to burn just as bad as ever. For the Thirsty People,
there could be nothing finer than such a sweetmeat, that would make
them drink, and drink, and drink again. Nothing would do the pashas,
captains, and guardsmen but that they should try the paste to see
whether it would produce such thirst in them; and the moment they did
so they were in the same fix as their King, and they all drank so long
that a rumor ran through the camp that the prisoner had come back, and
that a great attack was to be made the next day by some terrible enemy,
of whose name nobody knew. What could be better, then, than to enjoy
themselves the night before? So the captains and the guards began to
drink, and clink glasses, and give healths, until they got stupidly
drunk, and lay, here and there, where they fell, as so many swine all
about the camp.
[Illustration: THE SOLDIERS TRY PANTAGRUEL'S PASTE.]
What was Pantagruel doing in the meanwhile?
As soon as he found that he could no longer see the prisoner
trudging along the road--and remember the eyesight of giants is
just so much keener than that of common men, as their bodies are
stronger--Pantagruel pulled out the mast from his ship, which he
carried in his hand like a pilgrim's staff, first putting in the
hollow of it two hundred and thirty-seven puncheons of white wine of
Anjou. The next thing he did was to tie to his waistband the bark
itself, filled with salt, which he carried as readily as women going to
market carry their little baskets of vegetables. When they got near the
enemy's camp, Panurge said: "My lord, do you wish to do a wise thing?
Get that white wine of Anjou down from that mast, and let us drink to
our success." Panurge was right in this, because, strong as Pantagruel
was, such a weight of wine would have only troubled him if he had to
fight. He was willing enough, and they drank so much of the delicious
wine that, at the end, there was not a single drop of the two hundred
and thirty-seven puncheons left except what was to be found in one
leathern-flask, which Panurge grabbed for his own private use, and hid
away in his pocket.
When the wine was gone, Pantagruel called out to Carpalim: "Get thee
into the city, scrambling over the walls like a cat, as thou knowest
well how to do. Tell our people in the city that now is the very time
for them to attack their foes, who are weak. As soon as thou art
through with them, seize a lighted torch, run through the streets, and
set fire everywhere. Don't forget to cry out with thy loudest voice:
'Fire! Fire!' and skip from the camp."
Without another word, Carpalim was on the road, leaping and bounding
for the city. Everything was done as Pantagruel had commanded. All
the army in the city--that part which was not drunk--rushed out of
the walls to meet the foe, and found--nobody. Carpalim, meanwhile,
ran through all the tents and pavilions, setting fire to each one. Of
course, in doing so, he had now and then to step over the captains and
other officers who had eaten of Pantagruel's paste, but he stepped so
lightly, and they were so drunk, that they never knew it. The tents
caught fire so quickly that poor Carpalim--if it had not been for his
wonderful agility--would have been roasted alive, like the captains,
pashas, and guardsmen who were snoring in their tents when he set fire
to them.
When the army, that had been silly enough, when Carpalim shouted, to
run outside of the walls, reached the plain and found no enemy, they
wandered about in great confusion, and, being very tired, at last
returned to the city and lay outside of the burning tents, and went
to sleep with their mouths open. Nobody thought of taking care of the
burning gates. It was long after midnight when Pantagruel entered the
city, and as he marched through the streets he would take bags of salt
out of the ship, which he carried around his waist, and, as he passed
the sleepers, would drop the salt into their open mouths. Many died
from choking; and the rest of those who were lucky enough not to be
burnt, when they woke next morning, thought they had enough salt in
their mouths to last them for a lifetime. All they said as they got up
and humbly went about their business, wetting their tongues every now
and then to get the vile, bitter taste out, was:--
"O Pantagruel, thou hast made our throats burn worse than before!"