Tales from Watership Down (10 page)

“When I came down, feeling a lot heavier, there was a beautiful stream of clear water running along beside a bed of roses and crocuses. So I picked a crocus—a nice, yellow one—jumped into it and sat down, and there I was, floating along without a care in the world, when all of a sudden I remembered that I’d been going to have my fur cooled. It wasn’t far to the Cooler’s, so I rammed my crocus up against the bank, told it to wait until I got back, and ran across the field. There were two horses grazing there, a green one and a sky-blue one, so I asked the green one to be so kind as to let me ride him as far as the Cooler’s, and the sky-blue one said he’d be delighted, so off we went together.”

At this moment Hawkbit was seized with a fit of coughing, through which could be heard occasional words—“nonsense”—“whoever”—“sky-blue horse.” Speedwell waited politely until Hawkbit had finished coughing and then remarked, “Where was I? Oh, yes, of course.

“I really looked wonderful, riding on that sky-blue horse. All the blackbirds and pinkbirds for miles around
came to look at us. We got to the Cooler’s in no time, and I asked my sky-blue horse to wait outside.

“It was splendid at the Cooler’s, and I soon felt a whole lot better. As soon as I’d got all the ice out of my fur, I went outside and whatever do you think? There were that fox and that badger sitting up together, talking to each other and saying all the nastiest things they could think of about
me
. I just picked them up and banged their two heads together so that they rang like a cuckoo in April. Then I jumped back on my beautiful sky-blue horse and we galloped away. ‘Where to, master?’ asks the horse. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I think we ought to go and see to my yellow crocus boat in the stream, if it’s not too far.’ ‘Not too far, master?’ says my horse. ‘Why, we’re there!’ And so we were, only we’d been going backward, you see, and so of course I hadn’t noticed.

“There was my boat, safe and sound. The horse got in and then I got in, and off we went upstream and down dale. Sure enough, there was the farmer’s dear little daughter waiting for us on the bank, and I took her for a ride on my sky-blue horse.

“We went to the rabbits’ meeting—oh, thousands and thousands of rabbits—and when they saw us, they all said, ‘Let’s make him our Chief—our King—and little Lucy shall be his Queen!’

“So there we were, King and Queen of the rabbits, and Lucy was covered with flowers and I was covered with dandelion leaves! I dug a nice hole for us to sleep in together, and I told her stories until she fell asleep. My horse slept
too, but then his master came looking for him, and the farmer came looking for his Lucy. He had a whole bushel of hay with him, so my horse didn’t go hungry, and my dear Lucy rode him all the way home to the farm, and I promised to come and see her every time it rained. It rained honey for her and lettuce leaves for me, and we fairly lived like the King and Queen we were.

“And that’s the end of my story,” said Speedwell.

This (said Dandelion) is one of the many stories that are told about the adventures of El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle during their long return journey from the stone burrow of the Black Rabbit of Inlé.

They went slowly, for both of them were exhausted and badly shocked by their terrible experience. The weather, however, was kind. Day after day was sunny and warm. El-ahrairah used to sleep in the afternoons, while Rabscuttle kept watch for any elil who might be about. But the days were peaceful: there were no alarms or sudden escapes, and gradually El-ahrairah began to recover some of his old energy and strength. The larks sang high and the blackbirds sang low, and it seemed as though Lord Frith himself was making it easy for them to rejoin the placid natural world they thought of as their own.

One bright, clear evening, toward sunset, the two of them were lolloping gently across a hilltop, keeping an eye out, as they went, for some sheltered, safe place where they might be able to spend the night. Having come over the crest, they stopped to look at the land below and to choose their best way down.

It was exactly the kind of farming country they were used to: green fields—for it was early summer—and patches of woodland where the new leaves were glinting in the sun. Somewhere far off, a man was chugging about on a hrududu. All was as accustomed as could be—except for one curious feature, of a kind which neither of them had seen before.

Not far from a lonely-looking road stood a big house—smokeless chimneys, glassless windows and broken roofs. As any rabbit could perceive, it was in ruins and deserted, for there were no men anywhere around it. They could see the overgrown, jungly garden and the paths all covered with weeds. There were a few sheds here and there, and El-ahrairah was just thinking that one of them would make a good shelter for the night, when he noticed something else distinctly unusual.

On the nearer side of the garden, divided from it by a low wall, lay a piece of ground about the size of an ordinary meadow. It could in fact have been a meadow, except that it was all broken up into green paths, bordered by thick hedges running every which way. It lay empty in the westering sunshine, and although El-ahrairah remained looking at it for some time, he saw no sign of animals or birds.

“What do you suppose that is?” he asked Rabscuttle. “It’s obviously some kind of man-thing, but I’ve never seen a place like it before, have you?”

“I don’t know any more than you do, master,” replied Rabscuttle. “It’s no good to us, that’s certain. We’d do best to let it alone, wouldn’t we?”

“No, I’d like to have a closer look at it,” replied El-ahrairah. “Let’s go down that way. It can’t do us any harm, and I’d like to know what on earth it’s for. I can’t see that it’s any use at all, even to men.”

They went slowly down the hillside, stopped for a bite of grass, made their way along a couple of hedgerows, and soon found themselves quite near what El-ahrairah had named “the comical field.” There was no gate or any sort of entry that they could see, so El-ahrairah, more and more puzzled, led the way along one side.

“There must
be
a way in,” he said to Rabscuttle, “or what’s the good of it?”

Rabscuttle hadn’t changed his first idea that they ought to let it alone, but the truth was that he was glad to see his master getting back some of his old spirits and evidently up for a bit of adventure or mischief, for he had been drained and low for many days since leaving the Black Rabbit. So he said nothing and followed obediently as El-ahrairah went along the hedge to the far end and turned the corner.

The first thing they saw when they got round the corner was a solitary rabbit feeding in a patch of short grass. His back was turned to them, and he took no notice as they
made their way up to him. As soon as he became aware of them, he jumped and looked at them nervously. However, he did not run away but remained where he was, only trembling a little as El-ahrairah greeted him and wished him well. They could see now that he was old, with graying fur, peering eyes and slow movements. In some curious way that he could not pin down, El-ahrairah found himself not much liking the look of him, but this, he thought, must be due to one of the odd, confused spells that had been coming upon him from time to time since leaving the Black Rabbit. He knew he was not altogether himself, but he had grown accustomed to paying little attention to these intermittent feelings.

The old rabbit told them that his name was Greenweed. He had lived here for a long time, he said. There were no other rabbits now, and he was quite alone. El-ahrairah asked him whether he wasn’t afraid of elil, living so solitarily, but he answered that no elil ever troubled him. “I expect I’m too old and tough,” he said. “I wouldn’t be to their taste.” El-ahrairah could not tell whether this was meant seriously or as a joke.

After sunset, when they were settling down together for the night, El-ahrairah asked Greenweed about the big, ruined house and whether he could remember a time when men had lived there.

“Indeed I can,” replied Greenweed. “Once, there used to be any number of men.”

“Why did they go?” asked El-ahrairah.

“That I can’t tell,” said he. “As I seem to recall, they went away a few at a time, until there was none left.”

“And this strange place, this comical field of green paths: Do you know what it was for? What was the use of it?”

“It was of no practical use,” answered Greenweed. “I’ve seen men go in there—wander about until they got to the middle, they used to—and then do their best to find their way out again. They did it just for sport; it was a kind of game they used to play. You ought to pay it a visit while you’re here.”

El-ahrairah was puzzled. “A game? That seems stupid.”

“Well,” said Greenweed, “that’s only one of the stupid things men do to amuse themselves. If you’d lived as close to them as I have, you’d know that. But it’s worth going into, all the same.”

“Have
you
ever been in there?” asked El-ahrairah.

“Oh, yes; often, when I was young; but it’s of no use to a rabbit.”

“Well,” said El-ahrairah, “perhaps we might take a look round it tomorrow, before we go on, as long as the weather stays fine and it doesn’t rain.”

The next morning was as fine as ever, and El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle began the day by finding their way into the deserted, overgrown garden. They were hoping that they might find something good to eat, but even in the vegetable garden they came upon nothing to attract them.

“It looks as though a lot of other rabbits have been
here before us, master,” said Rabscuttle. “We might as well leave it to the mice and the birds.”

“Yes, we’ll go back now,” said El-ahrairah, “and see what we can find in that comical field.”

“Somehow or other I don’t much like that field,” said Rabscuttle, “but I can’t tell why.”

“It’s only because it’s new to you,” said El-ahrairah. “Natural rabbit suspicion. Anyhow, we won’t stay there long. We have to be on our way.”

Greenweed was waiting to encourage them and see them off. He showed them the way in and came a few yards with them into the comical field.

“Is there any particular way we ought to go to get to the middle?” asked El-ahrairah.

“Not that I know of,” said Greenweed. “As I understood it, that was what the men found amusing. They had to find their own way in and out. If they got confused, that was all part of the game.”

After he had left them they sat for a while, puzzling over which way to go. Finally they decided that one way was as good as another, and set off down one of the green paths leading between the hedges. For some time they seemed to be going round and round, and were beginning to find it monotonous. They were on the point of deciding to go back, when they unexpectedly found themselves at the center. There was a big, upright stone in the middle of a little grassy square, and to one side an old wooden seat.

“This must be the center, all right,” said El-ahrairah,
“because there’s only one way in. We may as well lie in the sun for a bit before we go back.”

They browsed awhile on the grass and then went to sleep in the sun. It was quiet and peaceful, and although El-ahrairah woke once or twice, he soon dropped off again.

When they finally woke, the sun had gone in. It was late in the afternoon and turning chilly.

“We’d better get back as quick as we can,” said El-ahrairah. “That Greenweed’ll be wondering where we’ve got to. We’d better stay the night with him now, and go on tomorrow.”

They had supposed it would be easy to get out, but they soon found that it was nothing of the kind. They had no idea which way to go and wandered up and down the green paths until they felt quite bewildered.

It was during one of their puzzled halts that El-ahrairah became sure of something of which he had already been half aware for some time past. There was some other creature in the comical field as well as themselves—someone on the move like them. He could hear it: now far off; now, so it seemed, close by. This disturbed him, for rabbits, as you all know, by nature tend to be afraid of anything unfamiliar and particularly of any strange creature nearby which they cannot hear or see clearly. He and Rabscuttle remained perfectly still, staring at each other. They both felt alarmed.

“Should we join it, do you think?” asked El-ahrairah after a while. “It might be able to show us the way out.”

“Don’t make any mistake, master,” replied Rabscuttle. “I don’t know who or what it is, but I know it’s searching for us, and if it finds us it means to kill us. We’re being hunted.”