Tales from Watership Down (11 page)

They both began to run then: a panic flight, one way and another, not knowing where they were going. It was like a nightmare, a flight without direction or purpose, against all rabbit nature. For as you all know, in the normal way a rabbit knows where the danger lies or where the enemy is, and runs in the opposite direction. But here, among the paths of the comical field, they could not tell where the danger lay; nor could they run directly away from their pursuer, for every path twisted, came to a dead end or turned back on itself. For all they knew, they might be running straight toward this unknown enemy, the dread of whom clutched at their hearts more direly with every moment that passed. Up and down, back and forth, they ran, feeling not only helplessness and terror but also growing exhaustion.

At last, in the gathering darkness, they sank down together in a place where one of the hedges ended, leaving a gap which led into a straight path beyond.

“I can’t go any further, master,” gasped Rabscuttle. “I’m worn out. And look, we’re going in circles. We’ve been this way before. There’s the hraka I passed, on the ground.”

At this, El-ahrairah realized the utter futility of their flight. He turned his head to look back at the way they had come, and it was at this moment that he saw for the first time, behind them, their approaching pursuer.

In afteryears El-ahrairah would never describe what he saw, and only once did he ever speak of it. This was when some rabbit once said to him, “But you saw and talked with the Black Rabbit of Inlé. How could this be worse?”

“The Black Rabbit,” replied El-ahrairah, “inspired a terrible, indescribable awe: helplessness and the fear of endless darkness. But he is not wicked, evil or cruel.” And not a word more would he say.

As the dreadful malignant horror broke into a run upon seeing him, El-ahrairah dashed through the gap beside them, with Rabscuttle hard on his heels. And there they saw before them the way out, which they must have overlooked when they came along that path earlier.

“If that way out didn’t move of its own accord,” Rabscuttle used to say, “I’d still be ready to believe it did. I’d believe anything of that place.”

Once out, they ran fast over the open grass, yet instinctively they knew that they would not be pursued further. “It won’t go beyond its own place,” said El-ahrairah.

Soon they saw Greenweed at silflay by himself in the last light. As they came up to him he jumped, stared at them with a kind of terrified incredulity and tried to run away. El-ahrairah pinned him down.

“So it didn’t work for once, Greenweed,” he said. “You contemptible, lying creature. It’s all clear enough now. That—that wicked being has allowed you to live here and protected you from the elil to suit himself. It was your business to seem to befriend any rabbits who came this way and
encourage them to go into that place, simply for amusement, as they supposed. Then, when they had gone in, you told your master.”

The wretched Greenweed answered him never a word. He plainly thought El-ahrairah was going to kill him.

“Well, you won’t do it anymore,” said El-ahrairah at length. “You’ll come with us tomorrow and we’ll find somewhere else for you to live out your days like a decent rabbit.”

Greenweed set out with them next day, and they left him in the first warren they came to. El-ahrairah said nothing to its Chief Rabbit about Greenweed’s despicable treachery, saying only that he was too old to journey with them. They never heard any more of him.

It was not long after dawn on a fine, clear morning close to midsummer. El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle were making their way over a low saddle between two hills of the grassy country they were crossing on their journey home. Clumps of oxeye daisies were already in bloom here and there, and there were patches of mauve sainfoin. As they stopped to nibble the fresh grass, a light breeze began to blow, bringing from below scents of sheep and river plants.

Ahead of them lay the kind of country with which they were familiar. On the sunset side, however, the fields were bordered by marshland, extending north as far as they could see. A man was at work cutting reeds, but otherwise the whole valley was still and quiet.

The rabbits, descending unhurriedly, came to a field that lay near the marsh and ended on the opposite side in a long bank topped by a hedge of hawthorn and elder. In this
were a number of rabbit holes, and as they reached it two rabbits came out and halted, watching their approach. El-ahrairah greeted them and remarked on the fine weather.

“Hlessil, are you?” said one of the rabbits. The other stared at El-ahrairah’s mutilated ears but said nothing.

“Yes, I suppose we are,” replied El-ahrairah. “We’ve been wandering for quite some time, but now we could do with a few days’ rest. Do you think we might be allowed to stay here? I like the look of this warren, and if it’s not overcrowded, perhaps no one would mind if it’s not overcrowded, perhaps no one would mind if we stopped for a bit.”

“That’ll be for our Chief to say, of course,” replied the second rabbit. “Would you like to come and meet him? I shouldn’t think he’ll mind you staying. He’s very easygoing as a rule.”

The rabbits made their way along the bank, stopping beside a group of four or five holes at the further end.

“This is where our Chief’s usually to be found,” said the first rabbit. “I’ll go in and tell him you’re here. His name’s Burdock, by the way,” he added before disappearing down the nearest of the holes.

Burdock, when he came out to meet them, immediately struck El-ahrairah favorably. His manner was not at all unfriendly, and he seemed to think it only natural that a couple of hlessil should want to stay in his warren for a while.

“We have hardly any trouble with elil here,” he said, “and so far we’ve been left alone by men. I suppose you’ve
come from quite a long way off, havent you? No other warrens anywhere near here, as far as I know. You can certainly stay here as long as you like.

El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle settled in comfortably and found the warren so much to their liking that they felt in no particular hurry to move on. The rabbits were as friendly and sociable as anyone could wish. Burdock in particular showed himself glad of the visitors company and of the opportunity to learn more from them about the world they had come from. He and several of his Owsla often came to silflay beside them of an evening, and would ask them to tell of their adventures out in the Beyond.

In his replies, El-ahrairah was always careful to say nothing about the Black Rabbit, and as their hosts were too polite to ask about his mutilated ears, he was able to avoid the whole subject of their reason for wandering and of whether they had any particular destination in mind. They obviously felt respect both for him and for Rabscuttle as rabbits who had traveled far and wide and survived all manner of perils.

“I could never have done all you’ve done,” said Celandine, the captain of Owsla, as they lay on the bank together one sunny evening. “I like to feel safe, myself. I’ve never felt any wish to go anywhere outside this warren.”

“Well, none of you have ever been driven to it, have you?” replied Rabscuttle. You’ve certainly been lucky there.”

“Why, have
you
been driven to it?” asked Celandine.

Rabscuttle, catching a warning glance from El-ahrairah, merely answered, “Well, you could say so,” and, as Celandine did not press him, left it at that.

It was past sunset one evening a few days later, and most of the rabbits were about to end silflay and settle in for the night, when yet another hlessi, a total stranger, came limping along the bank and asking to be taken to the Chief Rabbit. When it was suggested to him that he might stop and feed first, he became frantic, insisting that his news was urgent, a matter of life and death. Then he collapsed on the grass, apparently exhausted. Someone went to tell Burdock, who came at once, accompanied by El-ahrairah, Rabscuttle and Celandine. At first they could not bring the stranger round at all, but after a time he opened his eyes, sat up and asked which was the Chief Rabbit. Burdock told him kindly to take his time before trying to talk, but this only agitated him still further.

“Rats,” he panted. “The rats are coming. Thousands of rats. Killers.”

“Coming here, do you mean?” asked Burdock. “Where are they coming from? Are you saying we’re in danger from them? We’re not afraid of rats as a rule.”

“Yes,” answered the hlessi. “Your whole warren’s in danger. You’re all in deadly peril. This is a mass migration of rats. They’re not more than a single day away from here. They’re killing every creature they find in their way. It was long before dawn this morning—it was in the middle of last night—when all of us—every rabbit in our warren—woke
up to find them in among us. No one had heard or smelled them coming. Some of us tried to fight, but it was impossible. There were a thousand rats to every rabbit. Some of us did our best to clear out and run, but I think I must have been the only rabbit who managed it. I couldn’t see much in the dark, but when I got outside I couldn’t hear any other rabbits. There were rats everywhere—every rat in the world, you’d have thought. There was no chance of looking for other rabbits. I simply ran. As it was, I had to run right through a whole crowd of them. I’ve got bites all over my legs. I don’t know how on earth I managed to get clear. One moment I was kicking and biting—just frantically, no thought of anything except that I was terrified—and the next I realized they’d apparently left off and I was alone in the grass. I’m afraid I didn’t stop to look for other rabbits, and neither would you. But later—a long time later—I looked down from where I’d got to and saw the rats down below me, crowds of them, coming this way. You couldn’t see the grass for rats. I’d say they’re bound to be here by tomorrow. Your only chance is to get out, and quickly.”

Burdock turned to Celandine with a look of dismay and uncertainty.

“What are we to do, do you think?”

But Celandine seemed equally daunted.

“I don’t know. Whatever you say, Chief Rabbit.”

“Should we call a meeting of the Owsla and put it to them?”

At this, El-ahrairah, who had so far said nothing, felt that he must interpose.

“Chief Rabbit, you haven’t got the time to spare for a meeting. The rats will almost certainly be here before ni-Frith tomorrow. You’ve got to go, and quickly too.”

“If our rabbits will come,” said Burdock. “They may refuse. They haven’t heard anything about rats yet.”

“You’ve got no choice,” said El-ahrairah.

“But where can we go?” asked Celandine. “On two sides of this warren there’s a river much too broad to swim. The rats would catch our rabbits on the bank. And on the sunset side there’s nothing but the marsh.”

“How wide is that?” asked El-ahrairah.

“None of us know. No one’s ever crossed it. It wouldn’t be possible to cross it. There are no paths. It’s all pools and quagmires. We’d only sink in the mud. But the rats wouldn’t. They’re so much lighter, you see.”

“Well, from what you’ve told me, I think we’ll have to try. Chief Rabbit, I’ll undertake to lead them through the marsh myself, if you’ll back me up and tell them they’ve got to follow me.”

“And what in Frith’s name do
you
know about it?” said Celandine angrily. “A brainless hlessi, who’s only been here a few days.”

“Well, please yourself,” said El-ahrairah. “You haven’t suggested anything else, and I’m ready to do my best for you.”

Then Burdock and Celandine began arguing with each
other to no purpose whatever, impelled, as El-ahrairah could see, by nothing but their own fear and by a sort of panic-stricken notion that if only they could go on talking, something would happen.

“Rabscuttle,” he said quietly, “go round everywhere as quick as you can and tell the rabbits about the rats. Then tell them that you and I are going to guide them across the marsh and that we’ll be starting fu Inlé. Tell them they’re all to meet me by that plane tree over there—do you see the one I mean?—and that there’s no time to lose. If some of them say they won’t come, you can’t stand about arguing. You’ll just have to leave them. And above all, don’t let them think you’re afraid. Act as calm and confident as you can.”

Rabscuttle touched his nose to El-ahrairah’s and was off on the instant. El-ahrairah turned back to Burdock and Celandine, interrupted their argument and told them what he had done. He had expected them to blame and condemn him, perhaps even to attack him and beat him up, but to his surprise they did nothing of the kind. They were sulky and would not give him their approval, but he could tell that inwardly they were glad to have responsibility for the frightening business taken off their backs. If it all went wrong, which they clearly thought it would, they could blame him, but if he succeeded against all likelihood, they could say that they had given him the authority to do his best.

To El-ahrairah, it seemed to take an age for the news to spread over the whole warren; and then more trouble began. Rabbits came from all sides to talk to Burdock, to
Celandine and to himself. Some did not believe in the danger and said they would not join with those who were leaving. Others—and these were does—said they had newborn kittens in their burrows and what were they to do? To these he could only reply that if they wanted to save their lives, they must leave their litters and follow him, at which they grew angry. Others again asked him how far it was across the marsh and how long it would take to cross it. He answered that he did not know but was determined to save their lives if he could.

After some time he collected Rabscuttle and went across to the plane tree. He was surprised to find a great many rabbits waiting for him, among them Burdock and Celandine. He spoke to them as encouragingly as he could and praised them for making the right decision—to come with him. Then, as the moon began to rise at his back, he set off without hesitation into the marsh.