38. The Thunder Breaks

Why, now, blow wind, swell billow and swim bark!

The storm is up and all is on the hazard!

Shakespeare Julius Caesar

Late in the afternoon it came on dark and very close. It was plain that there would be no true sunset. On the green path by the river bank, Hazel sat fidgeting as he tried to imagine what might be going on in Efrafa.

‘He told you he wanted you to attack the sentries while the rabbits were feeding, didn’t he,’ he said to Kehaar, ‘and that he’d bring the mothers out in the confusion?’

‘Ya, say dis, but not ‘appen. Den ‘e say go away, come again tonight.’

‘So that’s still what he means to do. The question is, when will they be feeding? It’s getting dark already. Silver, what do you think?’

‘If I know them, they won’t alter anything they usually do,’ said Silver. ‘But if you’re worried in case we’re not there in time, why not go now?’

‘Because they’re always patrolling. The longer we wait up there, the greater the risk. If a patrol finds us before Bigwig comes, it won’t be just a matter of getting ourselves away. They’ll realize we’re there for some purpose and give the alarm: and that’ll be the end of any chance he’s got.’

‘Listen, Hazel-rah,’ said Blackberry. ‘We ought to reach the iron road at the same time as Bigwig and not a moment before. Why don’t you take them all over the river now and wait in the undergrowth, near the boat? Once Kehaar’s attacked the sentries, he can fly back and tell us.’

‘Yes, that’s it,’ answered Hazel. ‘But once he’s told us, we must get up there in no time at all. Bigwig’s going to need us as well as Kehaar.’

‘Well, you won’t be able to dash up to the arch,’ said Fiver, ‘with your leg. The best thing you can do is to get on the boat and have the rope gnawed half through by the time we come back. Silver can look after the fighting, if there’s going to be any.’

Hazel hesitated. ‘But some of us are probably going to get hurt. I can’t stay behind.’

‘Fiver’s right,’ said Blackberry. ‘You will have to wait on the boat, Hazel. We can’t risk your being left to be picked up by the Efrafans. Besides, it’s very important that the rope should be half-gnawed – that’s a job for someone sensible. It mustn’t break too soon or we’re all finished.’

It took them some time to persuade Hazel. When at last he agreed, he was still reluctant.

‘If Bigwig doesn’t come tonight,’ he said, ‘I shall go and find him, wherever he is. Frith knows what may have happened already.’

As they set off up the left bank, the wind began to blow in fitful, warm gusts, with a multifoliate rustling through the sedges. They had just reached the plank bridge when there came a rumble of thunder. In the intense, strange light, the plants and leaves seemed magnified and the fields beyond the river very near. There was an oppressive stillness.

‘You know, Hazel-rah,’ said Bluebell, ‘this really is the funniest evening I’ve ever gone looking for a doe.’

‘It’s going to get a lot funnier soon,’ said Silver. ‘There’ll be lightning and pouring rain. For goodness’ sake, all of you, don’t panic, or we’ll never see our warren again. I think this is going to be a rough business,’ he added quietly to Hazel. ‘I don’t like it much.’

Bigwig woke to hear his name repeated urgently.

‘Thlayli! Thlayli! Wake up! Thlayli’

It was Hyzenthlay.

‘What is it?’ he said. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nelthilta’s been arrested.’

Bigwig leapt to his feet.

‘How long ago? How did it happen?’

‘Just now. Moneywort came down to our burrow and told her to come up to Captain Chervil at once. I followed them up the run. When she got to Chervil’s burrow, there were two Council police waiting just outside and one of them said to Chervil, “Well, as quick as you can, and don’t be long.” And then they took her straight out. They must have gone to the Council. Oh Thlayli, what shall we do? She’ll tell them everything –’

‘Listen to me,’ said Bigwig. ‘There’s not a moment to lose. Go and get Thethuthinnang and the others and bring them up to this burrow. I shan’t he here, but you must wait quietly until I come back. It won’t be long. Quick now! Everything depends on it.’

Hyzenthlay had hardly disappeared down the run when Bigwig heard another rabbit approaching from the opposite direction.

‘Who’s there?’ he said, turning swiftly.

‘Chervil,’ answered the other. ‘I’m glad you’re awake. Listen, Thlayli, there’s going to be a whole lot of trouble. Nelthilta’s been arrested by the Council. I was sure she would be, after my report to Vervain this morning. Whatever it was she was talking about, they’ll get it out of her. I dare say the General will be here himself as soon as he knows what’s what. Now look here, I’ve got to go over to the Council burrow at once. You and Avens are to stay here and get the sentries on duty immediately. There’ll be no silflay and no one is to go outside for any reason whatever. All the holes are to be double-guarded. Now, you understand these orders, don’t you?’

‘Have you told Avens?’

‘I haven’t time to go looking for Avens; he’s not in his burrow. Go and alert the sentries yourself. Send someone to find Avens and someone else to tell Bartsia that Blackavar won’t be wanted this evening. Then sit on those holes – and the hraka holes too – with every sentry you’ve got. For all I know there may be some plot to make a break-out. We arrested Nelthilta as quietly as we could, but the Mark are bound to realize what’s happened. If necessary you’re to get rough, do you see? Now I’m off.’

‘Right,’ said Bigwig. ‘I’ll get busy at once.’

He followed Chervil to the top of the run. The sentry at the hole was Marjoram. As he stood clear to let Chervil pass, Bigwig came up behind him and looked out into the overcast.

‘Did Chervil tell you?’ he said. ‘Silflay’s early tonight, on account of the weather. The orders are that we’re to get on with it at once.’

He waited for Marjoram’s reply. If Chervil had already told him that no one was to go out, it would be necessary to fight him. But after a moment, Marjoram said, ‘Have you heard any thunder yet?’

‘Get on with it at once, I said,’ answered Bigwig. ‘Go down and get Blackavar and the escort up, and be quick, too. We’ll need to get the Mark out immediately if they’re to feed before the storm breaks.’

Marjoram went and Bigwig hurried back to his own burrow. Hyzenthlay had lost no time. Three or four does were crammed into the burrow itself and near-by, in a side run, Thethuthinnang was crouching with several more. All were silent and frightened and one or two were close to the stupefaction of terror.

‘This is no time to go tharn,’ said Bigwig. ‘Your lives depend on doing as I say. Listen, now. Blackavar and the police guards will be up directly. Marjoram will probably come up behind them and you must find some excuse to keep him talking. Soon after, you’ll hear fighting, because I’m going to attack the police guards. When you hear that, come up as fast as you can and follow me out into the field. Don’t stop for anything.’

As he finished speaking, he heard the unmistakable sound of Blackavar and the guards approaching, Blackavar’s weary, dragging gait was like that of no other rabbit. Without waiting for the does to reply, Bigwig returned to the mouth of the run. The three rabbits came up in single file, Bartsia leading.

‘I’m afraid I’ve brought you up here for nothing,’ said Bigwig. ‘I’ve just been told that silflay’s cancelled for this evening. Have a look outside and you’ll see why.’

As Bartsia went to look out of the hole, Bigwig slipped quickly between him and Blackavar.

‘Well, it looks very stormy, certainly,’ said Bartsia, ‘but I shouldn’t have thought –’

‘Now, Blackavar!’ cried Bigwig, and leapt on Bartsia from behind.

Bartsia fell forwards out of the hole with Bigwig on top of him. He was not a member of the Owslafa for nothing and was reckoned a good fighter. As they rolled over on the ground, he turned his head and sunk his teeth in Bigwig’s shoulder. He had been trained to get a grip at once and to hold it at all costs. More than once in the past this had served him well. But in fighting a rabbit of Bigwig’s strength and courage it proved a mistake. His best chance would have been to keep clear and use his claws. He retained his hold like a dog and Bigwig, snarling, brought both his own back legs forward, sank his feet in Bartsia’s side and then, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, forced himself upwards. He felt Bartsia’s closed teeth come tearing out through his flesh and then he was standing above him as he fell back on the ground, kicking helplessly. Bigwig leapt clear. It was plain that Bartsia’s haunch was injured. He struggled, but could not get up.

‘Think yourself lucky,’ said Bigwig, bleeding and cursing, ‘that I don’t kill you.’

Without waiting to see what Bartsia would do, he jumped back into the hole. He found Blackavar grappling with the other guard. Just beyond them, Hyzenthlay was coming up the run with Thethuthinnang behind her. Bigwig gave the guard a tremendous cuff on the side of the head, which knocked him clear across the run and into the prisoner’s alcove. He picked himself up, panting, and stared at Bigwig without a word.

‘Don’t move,’ said Bigwig. ‘There’ll be worse to come if you do. Blackavar, are you all right?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Blackavar, ‘but what do we do now?’

‘Follow me,’ said Bigwig, ‘all of you. Come on!’

He led the way out again. There was no sign of Bartsia, but as he looked back to make sure that the others were following, he caught a glimpse of the astonished face of Avens peering out of the other hole.

‘Captain Chervil wants you!’ he called, and dashed away into the field.

As he reached the clump of thistles where he had spoken to Kehaar that morning, a long roll of thunder sounded from across the valley beyond. A few great, warm drops of rain were falling. Along the western horizon the lower clouds formed a single, purple mass, against which distant trees stood out minute and sharp. The upper edges rose into the light, a far land of wild mountains. Copper-coloured, weightless and motionless, they suggested a glassy fragility like that of frost. Surely, when the thunder struck them again they would vibrate, tremble and shatter, till warm shards, sharp as icicles, fell flashing down from the ruins. Racing through the ochre light, Bigwig was impelled by a frenzy of tension and energy. He did not feel the wound in his shoulder. The storm was his own. The storm would defeat Efrafa.

He was well out into the great field and looking for a sight of the distant arch when he felt along the ground the first stamping thuds of the alarm. He pulled up and looked about him. There did not seem to be any stragglers. The does – however many there were – were well up with him, but scattered to either side. Rabbits in flight tend to keep away from each other and the does had opened out as they left the hole. If there was a patrol between him and the iron road they would not get past it without loss unless they came closer together. He would have to collect them, despite the delay. Then another thought came to him. If they could get out of sight, their pursuers might be puzzled, for the rain and the failing light would make tracking difficult.

The rain was falling faster now and the wind was rising. Over on the evening side, a hedge ran down the length of the field towards the iron road. He saw Blackavar near-by and ran across to him.

‘I want everyone the other side of that hedge,’ he said. ‘Can you get hold of some of them and bring them that way?’

Bigwig remembered that Blackavar knew nothing except that they were on the’ run. There was no time to explain about Hazel and the river.

‘Go straight to that ash tree in the hedge,’ he said, ‘and take all the does you can pick up on the way. Get through to the other side and I’ll be there as soon as you are.’

At this moment Hyzenthlay and Thethuthinnang came running towards them, followed by two or three other does. They were plainly confused and uncertain.

‘The stamping, Thlayli!’ panted Thethuthinnang. ‘They’re coming!’

‘Well, run, then,’ said Bigwig. ‘Keep near me, all of you.’

They were better runners than he had dared to hope. As they made for the ash tree, more does fell in with them and it seemed to him that they ought now to be a match for a patrol, unless it were a very strong one. Once through the hedge he turned south and, keeping close beside it, led them down the slope. There, ahead of him, was the arch in the overgrown embankment. But would Hazel be there? And where was Kehaar?

‘Well, and what was to happen after that, Nelthilta?’ asked General Woundwort. ‘Make sure you tell us everything, because we know a good deal already. Let her alone, Vervain,’ he added. ‘She can’t talk if you keep cuffing her, you fool.’

‘Hyzenthlay said – oh! oh! – she said a big bird would attack the Owsla sentries,’ gasped Nelthilta,’ and we would run away in the confusion. And then –’

‘She said a bird would attack the sentries?’ interrupted Woundwort, puzzled. ‘Are you telling the truth? What sort of a bird?’

‘I don’t – I don’t know,’ panted Nelthilta. ‘The new officer – she said he had told the bird –’

‘What do you know about a bird?’ said Woundwort, turning to Chervil.

‘I reported it, sir,’ replied Chervil. ‘You’ll not forget, sir, that I reported the bird –’

There was a scuffling outside the crowded Council burrow and Avens came pushing his way in.

‘The new officer, sir!’ he cried, ‘He’s gone! Taken a crowd of the Mark does with him. Jumped on Bartsia and broke his leg, sir! Blackavar’s cut and run too. We never had a chance to stop them. Goodness knows how many have joined him. Thlayli – it’s Thayli’s doing!’

‘Thlayli?’ cried Woundwort. ‘Embleer Frith, I’ll blind him when I catch him! Chervil, Vervain, Avens – yes and ‘you two as well – come with me. Which way has he gone?’

‘He was going downhill, sir,’ answered Avens.

‘Lead the way you saw him take,’ said Woundwort.

As they came out from the Crixa, two or three of the Efrafan officers checked at the sight of the murky light and increasing rain. But the sight of the General was more alarming still. Pausing only to stamp the escape alarm, they set out behind him towards the iron road.

Very soon they came upon traces of blood which the rain had not yet washed away, and these they followed towards the ash tree in the hedge to the west of the warren.

Bigwig came out from the farther side of the railway arch, sat up and looked round him. There was no sign either of Hazel or of Kehaar. For the first time since he had attacked Bartsia he began to feel uncertain and troubled. Perhaps, after all, Kehaar had not understood his cryptic message that morning? Or had some disaster overtaken Hazel and the rest? If they were dead – scattered – if there was no one left alive to meet him? He and his does would wander about the fields until the patrols hunted them down.

‘No, it shan’t come to that,’ said Bigwig to himself. ‘At the worst we can cross the river and try to hide in the woodland. Confound this shoulder! It’s going to be more nuisance than I thought. Well, I’ll try to get them down to the plank bridge at least. If we’re not overtaken soon, perhaps the rain will discourage whoever’s after us; but I doubt it.’

He turned back to the does waiting under the arch. Most of them looked bewildered. Hyzenthlay had promised that they were to be protected by a great bird and that the new officer was going to work a secret trick to evade the pursuit – a trick which would defeat even the General. These things had not happened. They were wet through. Runnels of water were trickling through the arch from the uphill side, and the bare earth was beginning to turn into mud. Ahead of them, there was nothing to be seen but a track leading through the nettles into another wide and empty field.

‘Come on,’ said Bigwig. ‘It’s not far now and then we’ll all be safe. This way.’

All the rabbits obeyed him at once. There was something to be said for Efrafan discipline, thought Bigwig grimly, as they left the arch and met the force of the rain.

Along one side of the field, beside the elms, farm tractors had pounded a broad, flat path downhill towards the water-meadow below – that same path up which he had run three nights before, after he had left Hazel by the boat. It was turning muddy now – unpleasant going for rabbits – but at least it led straight to the river and was open enough for Kehaar to spot them if he should turn up.

He had just begun to run once more when a rabbit overtook him.

‘Stop, Thlayli! What are you doing here? Where are you going?’

Bigwig had been half-expecting Campion to appear and had made up his mind to kill him if necessary. But now that he actually saw him at his side, disregarding the storm and the mud, self-possessed as he led his patrol, no more than four strong, into the thick of a pack of desperate runaways, he could feel only what a pity it was that the two of them should be enemies and how much he would have liked to have taken Campion with him out of Efrafa.

‘Go away,’ he said. ‘Don’t try to stop us, Campion. I don’t want to hurt you.’

He glanced to his other side. ‘Blackavar, get the does to close up. If there are any stragglers the patrol will jump on them.’

‘You’d do better to give in now,’ said Campion, still running beside him. ‘I shan’t let you out of my sight, wherever you go. There’s an escape patrol on the way – I heard the signal. When they get here you won’t stand a chance. You’re bleeding badly now.’

‘Curse you!’ cried Bigwig, striking at him. ‘You’ll bleed too, before I’ve done.’

‘Can I fight him, sir?’ said Blackavar. ‘He won’t beat me a second time.’

‘No,’ answered Bigwig, ‘he’s only trying to delay us. Keep running.’

‘Thlayli!’ cried Thethuthinnang suddenly, from behind him. ‘The General! The General! Oh, what shall we do?’

Bigwig looked back. It was indeed a sight to strike terror into the bravest heart. Woundwort had come through the arch ahead of his followers and was running towards them by himself, snarling with fury. Behind him came the patrol. In one quick glance Bigwig recognized Chervil, Avens and Groundsel. With them were several more, including a heavy, savage-looking rabbit whom he guessed to be Vervain, the head of the Council police. It crossed his mind that if he were to run, immediately and alone, they would probably let him go as he had come, and feel glad to be so easily rid of him. Certainly the alternative was to be killed. At this moment Blackavar spoke.

‘Never mind, sir,’ he said. ‘You did your very best and it nearly came off. We may even be able to kill one or two of them before it’s finished. Some of these does can fight well when they’re put to it.’

Bigwig rubbed his nose quickly against Blackavar’s mutilated ear and sat back on his haunches as Woundwort came up to them.

‘You dirty little beast,’ said Woundwort. ‘I hear you’ve attacked one of the Council police and broken his leg. We’ll settle with you here. There’s no need to take you back to Efrafa.’

‘You crack-brained slave-driver,’ answered Bigwig. ‘I’d like to see you try.’

‘All right,’ said Woundwort, ‘that’s enough. Who have we got? Vervain, Campion, put him down. The rest of you, start getting these does back to the warren. The prisoner you can leave to me.’

‘Frith sees you!’ cried Bigwig.’ You’re not fit to be called a rabbit! May Frith blast you and your foul Owsla full of bullies!’

At that instant a dazzling claw of lightning streaked down the length of the sky. The hedge and the distant trees seemed to leap forward in the brilliance of the flash. Immediately upon it came the thunder; a high, tearing noise, as though some huge thing were being ripped to pieces close above, which deepened and turned to enormous blows of dissolution. Then the rain fell like a waterfall. In a few seconds the ground was covered with water and over it, to a height of inches, rose a haze formed of a myriad minute splashes. Stupefied with the shock, unable even to move, the sodden rabbits crouched inert, almost pinned to the earth by the rain.

A small voice spoke in Bigwig’s mind.

‘Your storm, Thlayli-rah. Use it.’

Gasping, he struggled up and pushed Blackavar with his foot.

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘get hold of – Hyzenthlay. We’re going.’

He shook his head, trying to blink the rain out of his eyes. Then it was no longer Blackavar who was crouching in front of him but Woundwort, drenched in mud and rain, glaring and scrabbling in the silt with his great claws.

‘I’ll kill you myself,’ said Woundwort.

His long front teeth were bared like the fangs of a rat. Afraid, Bigwig watched him closely. He knew that Woundwort, with all the advantage of weight, would jump and try to close with him. He must try to avoid him and rely on his claws. He shifted his ground uneasily and felt himself slipping in the mud. Why did Woundwort not jump? Then he realized that Woundwort was no longer looking at him, but staring over his head at something beyond, something that he himself could not see. Suddenly, Woundwort leapt backwards and in the same moment, through the all-enveloping sound of the rain, there sounded a raucous clamour.

‘Yark! Yark! Yark!’

Some big, white thing was striking at Woundwort, who was cowering and guarding his head as best he could. Then it was gone, sailing upwards and turning in the rain.

‘Meester Pigvig, ees rabbits come!’

Sights and feelings swirled through Bigwig as though in a dream. The things that were happening no longer seemed connected by anything except his own dazed senses. He heard Kehaar screaming as he dived again to attack Vervain. He felt the rain pouring cold into the open gash in his shoulder. Through the curtain of rain he glimpsed Woundwort dodging among his officers and urging them back into the ditch on the edge of the field. He saw Blackavar striking at Campion and Campion turning to run. Then someone beside him was saying, ‘Hullo, Bigwig. Bigwig! Bigwig! What do you want us to do?’ It was Silver.

‘Where’s Hazel?’ he said.

‘Waiting at the boat. I say, you’re wounded! What –’

‘Then get these does down there,’ said Bigwig.

All was confusion. In ones and twos the does, utterly bemused and scarcely able to move or to understand what was said to them, were urged into getting up and stumbling their way down the field. Other rabbits began to appear through the rain; Acorn, clearly frightened, but determined not to run; Dandelion encouraging Pipkin; Speedwell and Hawkbit making towards Kehaar – the only creature visible above the ground-haze. Bigwig and Silver brought them together as best they could and made them understand that they were to help to get the does away.

‘Go back to Blackberry, go back to Blackberry,’ Silver kept repeating. ‘I left three of our rabbits in different places to mark the way back,’ he explained to Bigwig. ‘Blackberry’s first, then Bluebell, then Fiver – he’s quite near the river.’

‘And there is Blackberry,’ said Bigwig.

‘You did it then, Bigwig,’ said Blackberry, shivering. ‘Was it very bad? Good heavens, your shoulder –’

‘It’s not finished yet,’ said Bigwig. ‘Has everyone passed you?’

‘You’re the last,’ said Blackberry. ‘Can we go? This storm’s terrifying me!’

Kehaar alighted beside them.

‘Meester Pigvig,’ he said, ‘I fly on dose dam’ rabbits, but dey no run, dey get in ditch. I no catch ’em in dere. Dey coming all along beside you.’

‘They’ll never give up,’ said Bigwig. ‘I warn you, Silver, they’ll be at us before it’s done. There’s thick cover in the water-meadow – they’ll use that. Acorn, come back, keep away from that ditch!’

‘Go back to Bluebell! Go back to Bluebell!’ repeated Silver, running from side to side.

They found Bluebell by the hedge at the bottom of the field. He was white-eyed and ready to bolt.

‘Silver,’ he said, ‘I saw a bunch of rabbits – strangers, Efrafans, I suppose – come out of the ditch over there and slip across into the water-meadow. They’re behind us now. One of them was the biggest rabbit I’ve ever seen.’

‘Then don’t stay here,’ said Silver. “There goes Speed – well. And who’s that? Acorn and two does with him. That’s everyone. Come on, quick as you can.’

It was only a short distance now to the river, but among the sodden patches of rushes, the bushes and sedge and deep puddles, they found it next to impossible to tell their direction. Expecting to be attacked at any moment, they scattered and floundered through the undergrowth, finding here a doe and there one of their own rabbits and forcing them on. Without Kehaar they would certainly have lost all touch with each other and perhaps never reached the river. The gull kept flying backwards and forwards along the direct line to the bank, only alighting now and then to guide Bigwig towards some straggling doe whom he had spotted going the wrong way.

‘Kehaar,’ said Bigwig, as they waited for Thethuthinnang to struggle up to them through a half-flattened clump of nettles, ‘will you go and see whether you can spot the Efrafans? They can’t be far away. But why haven’t they attacked us? We’re all so scattered that they could easily do us a lot of harm. I wonder what they’re up to?’

Kehaar was back in a very short time.

‘Dey hiding at pridge,’ he said, ‘all under pushes. I come down, dat peeg fella ‘e make for fight me.’

‘Did he?’ said Bigwig. ‘The brute’s got courage, I’ll give him that.’

‘Dey t’ink you got to cross river dere or else go all along pank. Dey not know heem poat. You near poat now.’

Fiver came running through the undergrowth.

‘We’ve been able to get some of them on the boat, Bigwig,’ he said, ‘but most of them won’t trust me. They just keep asking where you are.’

Bigwig ran behind him and came out on the green path by the bank. All the surface of the river was winking and plopping in the rain. The level did not appear to have risen much as yet. The boat was just as he remembered it – one end against the bank, the other a little way out in the stream. On the raised part at the near end Hazel was crouching, his ears drooping on either side of his head and his flattened fur completely black with rain. He was holding the taut rope in his teeth. Acorn, Hyzenthlay and two more were crouching near him on the wood, but the rest were huddled here and there along the bank. Blackberry was trying unsuccessfully to persuade them to get out on the boat.

‘Hazel’s afraid to leave the rope,’ he said to Bigwig. ‘Apparently he’s bitten it very thin already. All these does will say is that you’re their officer.’

Bigwig turned to Thethuthinnang.

‘This is the magic trick now,’ he said. ‘Get them over there, where Hyzenthlay’s sitting, do you see? All of them – quickly.’

Before she could reply, another doe gave a squeal of fear. A litde way downstream, Campion and his patrol had emerged from the bushes and were coming up the path. From the opposite direction Vervain, Chervil and Groundsel were approaching. The doe turned and darted for the undergrowth immediately behind her. Just as she reached it, Woundwort himself appeared in her way, reared up and dealt her a great, raking blow across the face. The doe turned once more and ran blindly across the path and on to the boat.

Bigwig realized that since the moment when Kehaar had attacked him in the field, Woundwort had not only retained control over his officers but had actually made a plan and put it into effect. The storm and the difficult going had upset the fugitives and disorganized them. Woundwort, on the other hand, had taken his rabbits into the ditch and then made use of it to get them down to the water-meadow, unexposed to further attack from Kehaar. Once there, he must have gone straight for the plank bridge – which he evidently knew about – and set an ambush under cover. But as soon as he had grasped that for some reason the runaways were not making for the bridge after all, he had instantly sent Campion to make his way round through the undergrowth, regain the bank downstream and cut them off: and Campion had done this without error or delay. Now Woundwort meant to fight them, here on the bank. He knew that Kehaar could not be everywhere and that the bushes and undergrowth provided enough cover, at a pinch, to dodge him. It was true that the other side had twice his numbers, but most of them were afraid of him and none was a trained Efrafan officer. Now that he had them pinned against the river, he would split them up and kill as many as possible. The rest could run away and come to grief as they might.

Bigwig began to understand why Woundwort’s officers followed him and fought for him as they did.

‘He’s not like a rabbit at all,’ he thought. ‘Flight’s the last thing he ever thinks of. If I’d known three nights ago what I know now, I don’t believe I’d ever have gone into Efrafa. I suppose he hasn’t realized about the boat too? It wouldn’t surprise me.’ He dashed across the grass and jumped on the planking beside Hazel.

The appearance of Woundwort had achieved what Blackberry and Fiver could not. Every one of the does ran from the bank to the boat. Blackberry and Fiver ran with them. Woundwort, following them close, reached the edge of the bank and came face to face with Bigwig. As he stood his ground, Bigwig could hear Blackberry just behind him, speaking urgently to Hazel.

‘Dandelion’s not here,’ said Blackberry. ‘He’s the only one.’

Hazel spoke for the first time. ‘We shall have to leave him,’ he answered. ‘It’s a shame, but these fellows will be at us in a moment and we can’t stop them.’

Bigwig spoke without taking his eyes from Woundwort. ‘Just a few more moments, Hazel,’ he said. ‘I’ll keep them off. We can’t leave Dandelion.’

Woundwort sneered up at him. ‘I trusted you, Thlayli,’ he said. ‘You can trust me now. You’ll either go into the river or be torn to pieces here – the whole lot of you. There’s nowhere left to run.’

Bigwig had caught sight of Dandelion looking out of the undergrowth opposite. He was plainly at a loss.

‘Groundsel! Vervain!’ said Woundwort. ‘Come over here beside me. When I give the word, we’ll go straight into them. As for that bird, it’s not dangerous –’

‘There it is!’ cried Bigwig. Woundwort looked up quickly and leapt back. Dandelion shot out of the bushes, crossed the path in a flash and was on the boat beside Hazel. In the same moment the rope parted and immediately the little punt began to move along the bank in the steady current. When it had gone a few yards, the stern swung slowly outwards, until it was broadside on to the stream. In this position it drifted to the middle of the river and into the southward bend.

Looking back, the last thing Bigwig saw was the face of General Woundwort staring out of the gap in the willow-herb where the boat had lain. It reminded him of the kestrel on Watership Down, which had pounced into the mouth of the hole and missed the mouse.