Finally King Picrochole called his captains about him. “The army is to march in two divisions,” he said. “Half go east with me to Rock Clermond; half go west under Earl Swashbuckler to the Ford of Vede.”
Then detailing the captains, he commanded the army to advance immediately. So, all in disorder, the soldiers poured out of the square in two great streams, half by the east gate under Picrochole, half by the west gate under Earl Swashbuckler.
But no matter which way they went, as soon as they got to Grangousier’s country, they took to the fields, trampling crops, tearing hedges, shaking fruit trees, picking grapes, beating down nuts. Before them, in an uproar of fright, they drove cows, oxen, sheep, lambs, goats, pigs, hens, chickens and geese. Grangousier’s poor shepherds and farmers, hearing the bleats and the bellowings mingled with the songs and shouts of the soldiers, took to the woods; but many were captured nevertheless.
“Alas!” they cried, “we have always been good neighbors to you. We are unarmed and at peace, and you come on us like this! Spare us! Spare us!”
“Humph!” said Picrochole’s men grimly. “You are learning to eat our cakes.”
So that night, just as he had planned, Picrochole surprised and took the town of Rock Clermond, and Earl Swashbuckler quartered his army in the castle at the Ford of Vede.
Meanwhile the shepherd Forgier was posting with all speed to tell Grangousier. He arrived at a pause in the banquet, when the chestnuts were roasting over the fire. And Grangousier, with his chair turned about, was drawing pictures with a burnt stick in the ashes of the hearth and telling stories of the old times.
“Bravo! Bravo!” cried all the guests, smacking their lips over the hot chestnuts.
As for Queen Gargamelle on the other side of the fireplace, she smiled across at Grangousier, and thought that however good the old times might have been, they did not compare with the cozy present, with a warm blaze and the chestnuts roasting on the hearth.