while friar john was cracking skulls, and breaking limbs, and flattening noses, and ramming teeth down throats, picrochole, king of lerne, had, with his bunmakers and in the greatest haste, crossed the ford of vede and ordered the town of roche-clermaud to surrender, which did not make him wait long before opening its gates to him. we shall leave him there while we see how king grandgousier had received the news of this sudden war.
one rainy evening, the fine old gentleman happened to be in a very good humor. he was, as usual after supper, seated warming his knees, which were somewhat rheumatic, before a blazing fire; and, while waiting for the chestnuts to be roasted to a turn, was passing the time by writing on the red hearth with a burnt stick and making queen gargamelle laugh by telling his funny stories of old times. while he was in the very midst of one of these funny old stories, and the chestnuts were smelling as if they wanted to be eaten, here comes a servant to tell king grandgousier that one of his shepherds was down in the court-yard begging to see him.
"what does the varlet want?" asked the old king. he didn't mean to be angry, but his surprise made his big voice sound very loud and very gruff.
"to see your majesty."
"and what does he want to see my majesty for? but bring him up. i shan't know any sooner by waiting for thee to tell me."
who should it be but one of the very shepherds, who had been watching the vines and the rich purple grapes when the trouble began? he was full of it,—so brimming full that he could hardly speak for his eagerness to tell all he knew. at last, he managed to let the king know what the bad bunmakers of lerne had done with his subjects' vineyards; how the wicked king picrochole had been running over his lands, doing pretty much what he liked in the way of burning houses, sacking towns, and tramping down vines; and how he was, just at this time, shutting the gates of roche-clermaud against his majesty.
engraving
picrochole's army.
it was sad to see how the old giant received this bad news. he was the kindest and friendliest of neighbors to all the kings around him. he had never been known to go to war with any of them, and no neighbor had ever once thought before of going to war with him. what the good old man liked was peace, so that he could, every day after supper, eat roasted chestnuts, and tell fine stories of old times, while writing with a burnt stick on the red hearth.
"holos! holos!" cried grandgousier; "what is all this, good people? am i dreaming? or is this really true that i hear? can picrochole, the dear friend of my youth, close to me in blood and alliance, mean to war against me and my people? who leads him on? who has induced him to do this? ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! may he believe me when i say that i have never done any harm to him or his people! on the contrary, i have helped him whenever he wanted money; and that was very often. ho! ho ho! my good people, my friends, and all my faithful servants, i cannot prevent your coming to my aid. las! i am getting old. all my life i have worked for peace. now i must have war. las! las!"
while saying all this, he roared in his despair, without knowing it, so fiercely that the chestnut-roasters ran away in their fright, leaving their chestnuts to pop and burn on the griddles. only the council remained, who always made it a point to be present at supper. king grandgousier at once called the council together for special deliberation, by inviting them to sit at the supper-table without eating, and talk about affairs. after three hours of close debate, two points were fully agreed on:—
1. to send an army to picrochole to treat about matters.
2. to write to prince gargantua.
it was further resolved to send ulrich gallet, the very next day, with five carts full of buns, with instructions to tell picrochole that the old king was willing to give these five cart-loads of buns to make good those five dozen buns which had been taken by his shepherds.
engraving
grandgousier writes to gargantua.
then grandgousier wrote a letter to gargantua, telling about the war on his hands, in which he said: "my resolve is not to provoke, rather to pacify; but, if assailed, to defend myself. come, my gargantua, my well-beloved, come! thy father wants thee!"
by this time the chestnuts were all burnt black, and there wasn't a single spark to be seen among the ashes.
