CHORUS: Why do you cry out thus, unless at some vision of horror?
CASSANDRA: The house reeks of death and dripping blood.
CHORUS: How so? 'Tis but the odor of the altar sacrifice.
CASSANDRA: The stench is like a breath from the tomb.
Aeschylus, AgamemnonThe primroses were over. Toward the edge of the wood, where the groundbecame open and sloped down to an old fence and a brambly ditch beyond, only afew fading patches of pale yellow still showed among the dog's mercury and oak-tree roots. On the other side of the fence, the upper part of the field was full ofrabbit holes. In places the grass was gone altogether and everywhere there wereclusters of dry droppings, through which nothing but the ragwort would grow. Ahundred yards away, at the bottom of the slope, ran the brook, no more thanthree feet wide, half choked with kingcups, watercress and blue brooklime. Thecart track crossed by a brick culvert and climbed the opposite slope to a five-barred gate in the thorn hedge. The gate led into the lane.
The May sunset was red in clouds, and there was still half an hour to twilight.
The dry slope was dotted with rabbits -- some nibbling at the thin grass near theirholes, others pushing further down to look for dandelions or perhaps a cowslipthat the rest had missed. Here and there one sat upright on an ant heap andlooked about, with ears erect and nose in the wind. But a blackbird, singingundisturbed on the outskirts of the wood, showed that there was nothingalarming there, and in the other direction, along the brook, all was plain to beseen, empty and quiet. The warren was at peace.
At the top of the bank, close to the wild cherry where the blackbird sang, was alittle group of holes almost hidden by brambles. In the green half-light, at themouth of one of these holes, two rabbits were sitting together side by side. Atlength, the larger of the two came out, slipped along the bank under cover of thebrambles and so down into the ditch and up into the field. A few moments laterthe other followed.
The first rabbit stopped in a sunny patch and scratched his ear with rapidmovements of his hind leg. Although he was a yearling and still below full weight,he had not the harassed look of most "outskirters" -- that is, the rank and file ofordinary rabbits in their first year who, lacking either aristocratic parentage orunusual size and strength, get sat on by their elders and live as best they can --often in the open -- on the edge of their warren. He looked as though he knewhow to take care of himself. There was a shrewd, buoyant air about him as he satup, looked around and rubbed both front paws over his nose. As soon as he wassatisfied that all was well, he laid back his ears and set to work on the grass.
His companion seemed less at ease. He was small, with wide, staring eyes anda way of raising and turning his head which suggested not so much caution as akind of ceaseless, nervous tension. His nose moved continually, and when abumblebee flew humming to a thistle bloom behind him, he jumped and spunround with a start that sent two nearby rabbits scurrying for holes before thenearest, a buck with black-tipped ears, recognized him and returned to feeding.
"Oh, it's only Fiver," said the black-tipped rabbit, "jumping at bluebottlesagain. Come on, Buckthorn, what were you telling me?""Fiver?" said the other rabbit. "Why's he called that?""Five in the litter, you know: he was the last -- and the smallest. You'd wondernothing had got him by now. I always say a man couldn't see him and a foxwouldn't want him. Still, I admit he seems to be able to keep out of harm's way."*The small rabbit came closer to his companion, lolloping on long hind legs.
"Let's go a bit further, Hazel," he said. "You know, there's something queerabout the warren this evening, although I can't tell exactly what it is. Shall we godown to the brook?""All right," answered Hazel, "and you can find me a cowslip. If you can't findone, no one can."He led the way down the slope, his shadow stretching behind him on the grass.
They reached the brook and began nibbling and searching close beside the wheelruts of the track.
It was not long before Fiver found what they were looking for. Cowslips are adelicacy among rabbits, and as a rule there are very few left by late May in theneighborhood of even a small warren. This one had not bloomed and its flatspread of leaves was almost hidden under the long grass. They were just startingon it when two larger rabbits came running across from the other side of thenearby cattle wade.
"Cowslip?" said one. "All right -- just leave it to us. Come on, hurry up," headded, as Fiver hesitated. "You heard me, didn't you?""Fiver found it, Toadflax," said Hazel.
"And we'll eat it," replied Toadflax. "Cowslips are for Owsla* -- don't you knowthat? If you don't, we can easily teach you."Fiver had already turned away. Hazel caught him up by the culvert.
"I'm sick and tired of it," he said. "It's the same all the time. 'These are myclaws, so this is my cowslip.' 'These are my teeth, so this is my burrow.' I'll tellyou, if ever I get into the Owsla, I'll treat outskirters with a bit of decency.""Well, you can at least expect to be in the Owsla one day," answered Fiver.
"You've got some weight coming and that's more than I shall ever have.""You don't suppose I'll leave you to look after yourself, do you?" said Hazel.
"But to tell you the truth, I sometimes feel like clearing out of this warrenaltogether. Still, let's forget it now and try to enjoy the evening. I tell you what --shall we go across the brook? There'll be fewer rabbits and we can have a bit ofpeace. Unless you feel it isn't safe?" he added.
The way in which he asked suggested that he did in fact think that Fiver waslikely to know better than himself, and it was clear from Fiver's reply that thiswas accepted between them.
"No, it's safe enough," he answered. "If I start feeling there's anythingdangerous I'll tell you. But it's not exactly danger that I seem to feel about theplace. It's -- oh, I don't know -- something oppressive, like thunder: I can't tellwhat; but it worries me. All the same, I'll come across with you."They ran over the culvert. The grass was wet and thick near the stream andthey made their way up the opposite slope, looking for drier ground. Part of theslope was in shadow, for the sun was sinking ahead of them, and Hazel, whowanted a warm, sunny spot, went on until they were quite near the lane. As theyapproached the gate he stopped, staring.
"Fiver, what's that? Look!"A little way in front of them, the ground had been freshly disturbed. Two pilesof earth lay on the grass. Heavy posts, reeking of creosote and paint, towered upas high as the holly trees in the hedge, and the board they carried threw a longshadow across the top of the field. Near one of the posts, a hammer and a fewnails had been left behind.
The two rabbits went up to the board at a hopping run and crouched in a patchof nettles on the far side, wrinkling their noses at the smell of a dead cigarette endsomewhere in the grass. Suddenly Fiver shivered and cowered down.
"Oh, Hazel! This is where it comes from! I know now -- something very bad!
Some terrible thing -- coming closer and closer."He began to whimper with fear.
"What sort of thing -- what do you mean? I thought you said there was nodanger?""I don't know what it is," answered Fiver wretchedly. "There isn't any dangerhere, at this moment. But it's coming -- it's coming. Oh, Hazel, look! The field! It'scovered with blood!""Don't be silly, it's only the light of the sunset. Fiver, come on, don't talk likethis, you're frightening me!"Fiver sat trembling and crying among the nettles as Hazel tried to reassure himand to find out what it could be that had suddenly driven him beside himself. Ifhe was terrified, why did he not run for safety, as any sensible rabbit would? ButFiver could not explain and only grew more and more distressed. At last Hazelsaid,"Fiver, you can't sit crying here. Anyway, it's getting dark. We'd better go backto the burrow.""Back to the burrow?" whimpered Fiver. "It'll come there -- don't think itwon't! I tell you, the field's full of blood--""Now stop it," said Hazel firmly. "Just let me look after you for a bit. Whateverthe trouble is, it's time we got back."He ran down the field and over the brook to the cattle wade. Here there was adelay, for Fiver -- surrounded on all sides by the quiet summer evening -- becamehelpless and almost paralyzed with fear. When at last Hazel had got him back tothe ditch, he refused at first to go underground and Hazel had almost to push himdown the hole.
The sun set behind the opposite slope. The wind turned colder, with a scatterof rain, and in less than an hour it was dark. All color had faded from the sky, andalthough the big board by the gate creaked slightly in the night wind (as though toinsist that it had not disappeared in the darkness, but was still firmly where it hadbeen put), there was no passer-by to read the sharp, hard letters that cut straightas black knives across its white surface. They said:
THIS IDEALLY SITUATED ESTATE, COMPRISING SIX ACRES OFEXCELLENT BUILDING LAND, IS TO BE DEVELOPED WITH HIGH CLASSMODERN RESIDENCES BY SUTCH AND MARTIN, LIMITED, OF NEWBURY,BERKS.
*Rabbits can count up to four. Any number above four is hrair -- "a lot," or "athousand." Thus they say U Hrair -- "The Thousand" -- to mean, collectively, allthe enemies (or elil, as they call them) of rabbits -- fox, stoat, weasel, cat, owl,man, etc. There were probably more than five rabbits in the litter when Fiver wasborn, but his name, Hrairoo, means "Little Thousand" -- i.e., the little one of a lotor, as they say of pigs, "the runt."*Nearly all warrens have an Owsla, or group of strong or clever rabbits --second-year or older -- surrounding the Chief Rabbit and his doe and exercisingauthority. Owslas vary. In one warren, the Owsla may be the band of a warlord; inanother, it may consist largely of clever patrollers or garden-raiders. Sometimes agood storyteller may find a place; or a seer, or intuitive rabbit. In the Sandlefordwarren at this time, the Owsla was rather military in character (though, as will beseen later, not so military as some).