Watership Down (42 page)

       
"El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle set out on their dark journey. What way they went I don't know and no rabbit knows. But I always remember what old Feverfew--d'you remember him?--used to say when he told this story. 'They didn't take long,' he said. 'They took no time at all. No. They limped and stumbled through a bad dream to that terrible place they were bound for. Where they were traveling, the sun and moon mean nothing and winter and summer less. But you will never know'--and then he used to look all round at us--'you will never know, and neither do I, how far El-ahrairah went on his journey into the dark. You see the top of a great stone sticking out of the ground. How far is it to the middle? Split the stone. Then you'll know.'

       
"At last they came to a high place where there was no grass. They scrambled upward, over splinters of slate, among gray rocks bigger than sheep. Mist and icy rain swirled about them and there was no sound but the trickling of water and sometimes, from far above, the cry of some great, evil bird on the wing. And these sounds echoed, for they were between black cliffs of stone, taller than the tallest trees. The snow lay in patches all about, for the sun never shone to melt it. The moss was slippery, and whenever they pushed out a pebble, it rattled down and down behind them in the gullies. But El-ahrairah knew the way and on he went, until the mist grew so thick that they could see nothing. Then they kept close to the cliff and little by little, as they went, it overhung them until it made a dark roof above their backs. Where the cliff ended was the mouth of a tunnel, like a huge rabbit hole. In the freezing cold and silence, El-ahrairah stamped and flashed his tail to Rabscuttle. And then, as they were about to go into the tunnel, they realized that what they had thought, in the gloom, to be a part of the rock was not rock. It was the Black Rabbit of Inlé, close beside them, still as lichen and cold as the stone."

       
"Hazel," said Pipkin, staring into the dusk and trembling, "I don't like this story. I know I'm not brave--"

       
"It's all right, Hlao-roo," said Fiver, "you're not the only one." In fact he himself seemed composed and even detached, which was more than could be said for any other rabbit in the audience: but Pipkin was hardly to realize this. "Let's go out there for a bit and watch the spiders catching moths, shall we?" said Fiver. "I think I can remember where I left a patch of vetch--it must be somewhere this way." Still talking quietly, he led Pipkin out into the overgrown combe. Hazel turned to make sure of the direction they had taken and as he did so Dandelion hesitated, uncertain whether to resume.

       
"Go on," said Bigwig, "and don't leave anything out."

       
"I think many things are left out, if only the truth could be known," said Dandelion, "for no one can say what happens in that country where El-ahrairah went of his own accord and we do not. But, as I was told, when they first became aware of the Black Rabbit, they fled down the tunnel--as needs they must, for there was nowhere else to run. And this they did although they had come on purpose to encounter him and all depended on their doing so. They did no differently from all of us; and the end, too, was no different, for when they had done slipping and tripping and falling along the tunnel, they found themselves in a vast stone burrow. All was of stone: the Black Rabbit had dug it out of the mountain with his claws. And there they found, waiting for them, him from whom they had fled. There were others in that burrow also--shadows without sound or smell. The Black Rabbit has his Owsla, too, you know. I would not care to meet them.

       
"The Black Rabbit spoke with the voice of water that falls into pools in echoing places in the dark.

       
" 'El-ahrairah, why have you come here?'

       
" 'I have come for my people,' whispered El-ahrairah.

       
"The Black Rabbit smelled as clean as last year's bones and in the dark El-ahrairah could see his eyes, for they were red with a light that gave no light.

       
" 'You are a stranger here, El-ahrairah,' said the Black Rabbit. 'You are alive.'

       
" 'My lord,' replied El-ahrairah, 'I have come to give you my life. My life for my people.'

       
"The Black Rabbit drew his claws along the floor.

       
" 'Bargains, bargains, El-ahrairah,' he said. There is not a day or a night but a doe offers her life for her kittens, or some honest captain of Owsla his life for his Chief Rabbit's. Sometimes it is taken, sometimes it is not. But there is no bargain, for here what is is what must be.'

       
"El-ahrairah was silent. But he thought, 'Perhaps I can trick him into taking my life. He would keep a promise, as Prince Rainbow kept his.'

       
" 'You are my guest, El-ahrairah,' said the Black Rabbit. 'Stay in my burrow as long as you wish. You may sleep here. And you may eat here, and they are few indeed who can do as much. Let him eat,' he said to the Owsla.

       
" 'We will not eat, my lord,' said El-ahrairah, for he knew that if he ate the food which they gave him in that burrow, his secret thoughts would become plain and there would be an end of tricks.

       
" 'Then at least we must entertain you,' said the Black Rabbit. 'You must feel at home, El-ahrairah, and make yourself comfortable. Come, let us play bob-stones.'*

       
" 'Very well,' said El-ahrairah, 'and if I win, my lord, perhaps you will be so good as to accept my life in return for my people's safety.'

       
" 'I will,' said the Black Rabbit. 'But if I win, El-ahrairah, you shall give me both your tail and your whiskers.'

       
"The stones were brought and El-ahrairah sat down in the cold and the echoes to play against the Black Rabbit of Inlé. Now, as you may suppose, El-ahrairah knew how to play bob-stones. He could play as well as any rabbit that ever covered a cast. But there--in that dreadful place, with the Black Rabbit's eyes upon him and the Owsla who made no sound--try as he would, his wits deserted him and even before he cast, he felt that the Black Rabbit knew what was down. The Black Rabbit showed never the least haste. He played as the snow falls, without sound or change, until at last El-ahrairah's spirit failed him and he knew that he could not win.

       
" 'You can pay your stakes to the Owsla, El-ahrairah,' said the Black Rabbit, 'and they will show you a burrow to sleep in. I shall return tomorrow and if you are still here I will see you. But you are free to leave whenever you wish.'

       
"Then the Owsla took El-ahrairah away and cut off his tail and pulled out his whiskers; and when he came to himself, he was alone with Rabscuttle in a hollow stone burrow, with an opening to the mountain outside.

       
" 'Oh, master,' said Rabscuttle, 'what will you do now? For Frith's sake let us go away. I can feel for both of us in the dark.'

       
" 'Certainly not,' said El-ahrairah. He still hoped to get what he wanted from the Black Rabbit somehow and he felt sure that they had been put into this burrow so that they would be tempted to steal away. 'Certainly not. I can make do very well with some willow herb and clematis. Go out and get some, Rabscuttle, but make sure you come back before tomorrow evening. You had better try to bring some food, too, if you can.'

       
"Rabscuttle went out as he was told and El-ahrairah was left alone. He slept very little, partly for the pain and partly for the fear that never left him; but chiefly because he was still searching for some trick that would serve his turn. The next day Rabscuttle returned with some pieces of turnip, and after El-ahrairah had eaten them, Rabscuttle helped him to patch himself up with a gray tail and whiskers made from the winter drift of clematis and ragwort. In the evening he went to meet the Black Rabbit as though nothing had happened.

       
" 'Well, El-ahrairah,' said the Black Rabbit--and he did not wrinkle his nose up and down when he sniffed, but thrust it forward, as a dog does--'my burrow cannot be what you are used to: but perhaps you have done your best to make yourself comfortable?'

       
" 'I have, my lord,' said El-ahrairah. 'I am glad that you allow me to stay.'

       
" 'Perhaps we will not play bob-stones tonight,' said the Black Rabbit. 'You must understand, El-ahrairah, that I have no wish to make you suffer. I am not one of the Thousand. I repeat, you may stay or leave as you please. But if you are going to remain, perhaps you would care to hear a story; and to tell one yourself, if you like.'

       
" 'Certainly, my lord,' said El-ahrairah. 'And if I can tell a story as good as yours, perhaps you will accept my life and grant the safety of my people.'

       
" 'I will,' said the Black Rabbit. 'But if not, El-ahrairah, you will have to forfeit your ears.' He waited to see whether El-ahrairah would refuse the wager but he did not.

       
"Then the Black Rabbit told such a tale of fear and darkness as froze the hearts of Rabscuttle and El-ahrairah where they crouched on the rock, for they knew that every word was true. Their wits turned. They seemed to be plunged in icy clouds that numbed their senses; and the Black Rabbit's story crept into their hearts like a worm into a nut, leaving them shriveled and empty. When at last that terrible story was ended, El-ahrairah tried to speak. But he could not collect his thoughts and he stammered and ran about the floor, like a mouse when the hawk glides low. The Black Rabbit waited silently, with no sign of impatience. At last it was clear that there would be no story from El-ahrairah, and the Owsla took him and put him into a deep sleep: and when he woke, his ears were gone and only Rabscuttle was beside him in the stone burrow, crying like a kitten.

       
" 'Oh, master,' said Rabscuttle, 'what good can this suffering bring? For the sake of Lord Frith and the green grass, let me take you home.'

       
" 'Nonsense,' said El-ahrairah. 'Go out and get me two good, big dock leaves. They will do very well for ears.'

       
" 'They will wither, master,' said Rabscuttle, 'and I am withered now.'

       
" 'They will last long enough,' said El-ahrairah grimly, for what I have to do. But I cannot find the way.'

       
"When Rabscuttle was gone, El-ahrairah forced himself to think clearly. The Black Rabbit would not accept his life. Also, it was plain that he himself would never be able to win any sort of wager against him: he might as well try to run a race across a sheet of ice. But if the Black Rabbit did not hate him, why did he inflict these sufferings upon him? To destroy his courage and make him give up and go away. But why not simply send him away? And why wait, before hurting him, till he himself proposed a wager and lost it? The answer came to him suddenly. These shadows had no power either to send him away or to hurt him, except with his own consent. They would not help him, no. They would seek possession of his will and break it if they could. But supposing that he could find among them something that would save his people, could they stop him from taking it away?

       
"When Rabscuttle came back, he helped El-ahrairah to diguise his horrible, maimed head with two dock leaves in place of ears, and after a while they slept. But El-ahrairah kept dreaming of his starving rabbits waiting in the runs to push back King Darzin's soldiers and placing all their hopes on him: and at last he woke, cold and cramped, and wandered out into the runs of the stone warren. As he limped along, trailing the dock leaves on either side of his head--for he could not raise or move them like the ears he had lost--he came to a place from which several narrow runs led down deeper into the ground; and here he found two of the ghastly, shadowy Owsla moving about some dark business of their own. They turned and stared, to make him afraid, but El-ahrairah was past being afraid and he stared back at them, wondering what they had in mind to persuade him to lose.

       
" 'Turn back, El-ahrairah,' said one at last. 'You have no business here, in the pit. You are alive; and have suffered much already.'

       
" 'Not as much as my people,' replied El-ahrairah.

       
" 'There is enough suffering here for a thousand warrens,' said the shadow. 'Do not be stubborn, El-ahrairah. In these holes lie all the plagues and diseases that come to rabbits--fever and mange and the sickness of the bowels. And here, too, in this nearest hole, lies the white blindness, that sends creatures hobbling out to die in the fields, where even the elil will not touch their rotting bodies. This is our task, to see that all these are ready for the use of Inlé-rah. For what is is what must be.'

       
"Then El-ahrairah knew that he must give himself no time to think. He pretended to go back, but suddenly turned, rushed upon the shadows and plunged into the nearest hole faster than a raindrop into the ground. And there he lay, while the shadows flickered and gibbered about the entrance, for they had no power to move him, except by fear. After a time they went away and El-ahrairah was left alone, wondering whether he would be able to reach King Darzin's army in time without the use of whiskers or ears.