Tales from Watership Down (7 page)

“We mean to fly in there and strip the place. What’s to stop us?”

“The man is waiting for you,” said El-ahrairah. “He is hiding in the bushes with his gun. If you go in there you will be shot.”

But the Chief Rook would not listen to El-ahrairah and led his flock over the high wire fence and into the field of greens. At once two guns began firing, and before the flock could get away, four of them had been killed. El-ahrairah advised the rabbits to leave the place altogether alone, and so they did.

They say that after that El-ahrairah wandered far and wide, and everywhere he went he gave the animals and birds good advice and help. He met mice and water rats and even an otter, which did him no harm; yet he seemed no nearer to what he was seeking.

At last, one day, he came to a great expanse of common land, where the black, peaty soil was covered with miles of heather, juniper and silver birch trees. Here, in the boggy places, there were fly-catching plants and marsh pimpernel, and the wheatears darted from place to place, saying nothing to El-ahrairah, for they did not know him. He went on
as a stranger and at last, tired out, lay down in a sunny place, without a thought for the possibility that a stray stoat or weasel might happen along.

As he lay dozing, he felt the presence of some creature close by and opened his eyes, to see a snake watching him. He was not afraid of a snake, of course, and he greeted it and waited to hear what it would say.

“Cold!” said the snake at last. “How cold it is!”

It was a warm, sunny day, and El-ahrairah himself felt almost too snug in his fur. Rather gingerly, he put out one paw and touched the snake on its green length. It was indeed cold to the touch. He pondered on this but could think of no explanation.

They lay together on the grass for a long time, until at last El-ahrairah became aware of something which he had not noticed before.

“Your blood is not like ours,” he said to the snake. “You have no pulse, have you?”

“What is a pulse?”

“Feel mine,” said El-ahrairah.

The snake pressed closer and could feel El-ahrairah’s pulse beating.

“That is the reason you are cold,” said El-ahrairah. “Your blood is cold. Snake, you need to bask in the sun as much as you can. When you can’t, you will feel sleepy. But when you can, it will warm your blood and make you lively. That’s the answer to your problem—sunshine.”

They lay in the sun for several hours more, until the snake began to feel active and ready to hunt for food.

“You are a good friend, El-ahrairah,” said the snake. “I have heard of the many creatures you have helped with your good advice. I will give you a gift. I will give you the hypnotic power of the snake that is in my eyes. But whatever you use it for, use it quickly, for it will not last. Now stare at me!”

El-ahrairah looked steadily into the snake’s eyes and felt his willpower dissolve and even his power to move. At length the snake removed its gaze. “That’s right,” it said. So El-ahrairah got up and bade it farewell.

Now he began his journey back to his home warren. It was a long way, and it was not until the following evening that he found himself approaching the place.

Now, the story tells that across El-ahrairah’s way there ran a brook and that the brook was crossed by a little bridge. And here, on the bridge, El-ahrairah paused to wait, for he knew in his heart what would happen.

Presently, out of the woods above him, came the fox. El-ahrairah saw it coming, and his heart misgave him, yet he remained where he was on the bridge until the fox actually lay down beside him, licking its lips.

“A rabbit!” said the fox. “Upon my life, a plump, fresh rabbit. What luck!”

So then El-ahrairah said to the fox, “Fox you may smell, and fox you may be, but I can tell your fortune in the water.”

“Ah ha!” said the fox. “Tell my fortune in the water, eh? And what do you see in the water, my friend? Fat rabbits running on the grass, yes, yes?”

“No,” said El-ahrairah. “It is not fat rabbits that I see, but swift hounds on the scent and my enemy flying for his life.”

And with this he turned and looked the fox full in the eyes. The fox stared back at him, and he knew that it could not avert its gaze. It seemed to shrink and dwindle before him. And as it did so, El-ahrairah seemed to see, as in a dream, great hounds loping down the hill and even faintly to hear them giving tongue.

“Go,” whispered El-ahrairah to the fox. “Go, and never return!”

As though bemused, the fox got up, staggered to the edge of the bridge and half leaped, half fell over it into the water below. Watching, El-ahrairah saw it floating downstream. It struggled out on the further bank and slunk away among the bushes.

El-ahrairah, exhausted by the terrible encounter, turned and made his way home to his warren, where all were overjoyed to see him. The fox and its mate disappeared from the neighborhood. They must have told their story, for no other foxes took their place, and the warren had peace; as we do now, Frith be thanked and praised.

El-ahrairah, they say, often used to visit this warren and that, staying a few days with the Chief Rabbit and his Owsla, and advising them about any problems they had. Even the oldest and most experienced rabbits respected his advice and were glad to see him. He was not usually in any hurry to talk about himself, but was a most sympathetic listener, always ready to hear of others’ difficulties and adventures, and to give praise where it was deserved. I’ve often found myself hoping that one day he might drop in here, and I think we ought all to keep a wary eye open for him, for they say that often he’s not so easy to recognize: and he has good reasons for that, as you shall hear.

They say that there was once a warren called
Parda-rail, whose rabbits thought the world of themselves. According to them, there was no one so spruce, no one so daring, no one so fleet of foot, as the rabbits of Parda-rail; and as for newcomers, well, you more or less had to have a personal recommendation from Prince Rainbow to get in there. The Chief Rabbit was called Henthred, and before you could even speak to Henthred-rah you had to be brought up and introduced by one of the Owsla. And as for his doe, Anflellen—oh! she was a dream of delight until you knew her well enough to realize that she lacked practically all the qualities of an honest rabbit and had other rabbits to do everything for her.

Well, one evening two of the Owsla of this precious warren, Hallion and Thyken, were making their way home after a successful raid on a distant kitchen garden, when near the outskirts of Parda-rail they came upon a rabbit, evidently a hlessi, a wanderer, lying on his side under a thornbush, breathing hard, and plainly in a bad way. One ear was torn and bloody, both his front paws were just about encased in dried mud, and he’d lost half the fur on his head. As they approached him, he tried to get up, but after two attempts he fell back and lay where he was. They stopped to look at him and to make sure he wasn’t from Parda-rail. As they were sniffing him over, he said to Hallion, “Sir, I’m afraid I’m in a bad way. I’m utterly exhausted and I know I can’t run. If I stay here like this, I think one or other of the Thousand is bound to get me. Can you give me shelter in your warren for the night?”

“Give
you
shelter?” answered Hallion. “A dirty, disreputable rabbit like you? Why—”

“Oh, it’s a
rabbit
, is it?” put in Thyken. “I was wondering what it was.”

“You’d better get yourself out of here,” went on Hallion. “We don’t want the likes of you hanging about near Parda-rail. Someone might think you came from there.”

The hlessi, who seemed desperate, implored them to help him to get to their warren, for he thought it was his only chance. But neither of them would do so, saying that a dirty vagabond like him would only bring disgrace on the name of Parda-rail. They left him still pleading and made their way back without giving him another thought.

About two or three days later, El-ahrairah dropped by, as was his wont in the long days of summer. Henthred greeted him with much respect, saying he hoped he would stay with them several days and enjoy the clover, which was just in season. El-ahrairah accepted the invitation and said he would like to meet the Owsla, whom he hadn’t seen for quite some time.

They all came proudly before him, with sleek fur and white-flashing tails, and El-ahrairah praised their appearance and told Henthred that they looked a most likely lot. Then he spoke to them, glancing from one to another as he did so.

“You look the most handsome bunch of rabbits,” he said, “that anyone could well wish to see; and I’m sure your hearts and spirits are just as good as your appearance. For example,” he went on, turning to one of them, a big buck by
the name of Frezail, “what would you do if you were coming home one evening and came upon a wounded hlessi who begged you to help him to your warren and give him shelter for the night?”

“I’d certainly help him,” replied Frezail, “and let him stay with us for as long as he liked.”

“And you?” asked El-ahrairah, turning to the next rabbit.

“The same, sir.”

And so they all said.

Then, before their very eyes, El-ahrairah slowly changed and little by little became the pitiful hlessi whom Hallion and Thyken had encountered a few evenings before. He fell on his side and as he did so looked up at Hallion and Thyken. “And how about you?” he said. But they answered nothing at all, only staring at him in consternation.

“You didn’t recognize me, then?” inquired El-ahrairah. All the rest of the Owsla gazed from him to Hallion and Thyken, not understanding what he meant but guessing that there must be something disconcerting between El-ahrairah and those two.

“You—you didn’t look like yourself,” faltered Thyken at last. “We couldn’t tell—”

“Couldn’t tell that I was a rabbit—is that it?” said El-ahrairah. “Are you sure you know now?”

Then, before he changed back, he made them all come up close and look at him, “to make sure,” he said, “that they’d know me another time.” Hallion and Thyken were
fully expecting that he’d come down hard on them in some way or other, but all he did was to tell Henthred, in everyone’s hearing, what had happened that evening when they’d come upon him lying under the thornbush. They all knew in their hearts that they wouldn’t have done any better, and they left him without another word; all except Henthred and a gray-furred, ancient-looking rabbit, whom Henthred introduced to El-ahrairah as Themmeron, the oldest rabbit in the warren.

“All
I
want to say, my lord,” quavered Themmeron, “is that if
I
had seen you that evening, I would have known that you were not what you seemed, although I can’t say whether I could have told that you were our Prince with a Thousand Enemies. But that you were in disguise I would certainly have known.”

“How?” asked El-ahrairah, a little put out, for he had been feeling that no one could have looked more the part of a poor old hlessi than he had.

“Because I would have perceived, my lord, that you didn’t look like a rabbit who had seen the Hole in the Sky. Nor do you now, for the matter of that.”

“The Hole in the Sky?” said El-ahrairah. “And what may that be?”

“It can’t be told,” replied Themmeron. “It can’t be told. I mean no disrespect, my lord—”

“No, no, that doesn’t matter,” said El-ahrairah. “I just want to know what you mean by the Hole in the Sky. How can there be a hole in the sky?”

But the old rabbit seemed as though he hardly knew he had spoken. He bobbed his head to El-ahrairah, turned and limped slowly away.

“We generally just leave him to himself, my lord,” said Henthred. “He’s quite harmless, but I sometimes wonder whether he knows night from morning. I’m told he was a dashing gallant of the Owsla in his time.”

“But what did he mean by the Hole in the Sky?”

“If you don’t know, my lord, I’m sure I don’t,” replied Henthred, who, truth to tell, had felt rather nettled at having two of his Owsla shown up for a couple of blighters.

El-ahrairah didn’t refer to the incident again. He stayed two or three more days and behaved as though nothing unusual had happened, and, when he left, wished the warren good fortune and prosperity, as he was accustomed to do.

He puzzled a lot over what Themmeron had said, and everywhere he went asked other rabbits what they could tell him about the Hole in the Sky. But no one could tell him anything. At last he realized that he was beginning to be thought a little odd on account of this preoccupation, so he gave up inquiring. Privately, however, he wondered more and more. What could old Themmeron have meant? He came to the conclusion that although he was the Rabbit Prince, he must be missing something really splendid and rewarding: some sort of secret thing. Probably a number of those he had asked knew perfectly well but weren’t giving anything away. It must be marvelous, the Hole in the Sky. If
only he could find it and somehow or other get through it to the other side, there must be the most miraculous things to found. He wasn’t going to fell contented until he had discovered it.

Well, as you all know, El-ahrairah’s journeyings take him everywhere, far beyond the range of ordinary rabbits like ourselves, who are happy enough with green fields and elder bloom, or clean bracken and gorse. High hills and deep woods he was quite accustomed to, and could swim across a river as well as any water vole. But of course, with such wanderings as that, he was liable to encounter some curious and unusual creatures, some of whom were distinctly dangerous. And the story tells that one evening, getting on for nightfall, he was going along a narrow path in some lonely hills when he came face-to-face with a creature called a timbleer—one we know nothing of, Frith be thanked, except that they’re fierce and aggressive.