Like an obelisk towards which the principal streets of a town converge, thestrong will of a proud spirit stands prominent and commanding in the middle ofthe art of war.
Clausewitz, On WarDusk was falling on Efrafa. In the failing light, General Woundwort waswatching the Near Hind Mark at silflay along the edge of the great pasture fieldthat lay between the warren and the iron road. Most of the rabbits were feedingnear the Mark holes, which were close beside the field, concealed among the treesand undergrowth bordering a lonely bridle path. A few, however, had venturedout into the field, to browse and play in the last of the sun. Further out still werethe sentries of the Owsla, on the alert for the approach of men or elil and also forany rabbit who might stray too far to be able to get underground quickly if thereshould be an alarm.
Captain Chervil, one of the two officers of the Mark, had just returned from around of his sentries and was talking to some of the does near the center of theMark ground when he saw the General approaching. He looked quickly about tosee whether anything was at fault. Since all seemed to be well, he began nibblingat a patch of sweet vernal with the best air of indifference that he could manage.
General Woundwort was a singular rabbit. Some three years before, he hadbeen born -- the strongest of a litter of five -- in a burrow outside a cottage gardennear Cole Henley. His father, a happy-go-lucky and reckless buck, had thoughtnothing of living close to human beings except that he would be able to forage intheir garden in the early morning. He had paid dearly for his rashness. After twoor three weeks of spoiled lettuces and nibbled cabbage plants, the cottager hadlain in wait and shot him as he came through the potato patch at dawn. The samemorning the man set to work to dig out the doe and her growing litter.
Woundwort's mother escaped, racing across the kale field toward the downs, herkittens doing their best to follow her. None but Woundwort succeeded. Hismother, bleeding from a shotgun pellet, made her way along the hedges in broaddaylight, with Woundwort limping beside her.
It was not long before a weasel picked up the scent of the blood and followed it.
The little rabbit cowered in the grass while his mother was killed before his eyes.
He made no attempt to run, but the weasel, its hunger satisfied, left him aloneand made off through the bushes. Several hours later a kind old schoolmasterfrom Overton, walking through the fields, came upon Woundwort nuzzling thecold, still body and crying. He carried him home to his own kitchen and saved hislife, feeding him with milk from a nasal dropper until he was old enough to eatbran and greenstuff. But Woundwort grew up very wild and, like Cowper's hare,would bite when he could. In a month he was big and strong and had becomesavage. He nearly killed the schoolmaster's cat, which had found him at liberty inthe kitchen and tried to torment him. One night, a week later, he tore the wirefrom the front of his hutch and escaped to the open country.
Most rabbits in his situation, lacking almost all experience of wild life, wouldhave fallen victim at once to the elil: but not Woundwort. After a few days'
wandering, he came upon a small warren and, snarling and clawing, forced themto accept him. Soon he had become Chief Rabbit, having killed both the previousChief and a rival named Fiorin. In combat he was terrifying, fighting entirely tokill, indifferent to any wounds he received himself and closing with hisadversaries until his weight overbore and exhausted them. Those who had noheart to oppose him were not long in feeling that here was a leader indeed.
Woundwort was ready to fight anything except a fox. One evening he attackedand drove off a foraging Aberdeen puppy. He was impervious to the fascination ofthe mustelidae, and hoped someday to kill a weasel, if not a stoat. When he hadexplored the limits of his own strength, he set to work to satisfy his longing forstill more power in the only possible way -- by increasing the power of the rabbitsabout him. He needed a bigger kingdom. Men were the great danger, but thiscould be circumvented by cunning and discipline. He left the small warren, takinghis followers with him, and set out to look for a place suited to his purpose, wherethe very existence of rabbits could be concealed and extermination made verydifficult.
Efrafa grew up round the crossing point of two green bridle paths, one ofwhich (the east-to-west) was tunnel-like, bordered on both sides by a thickgrowth of trees and bushes. The immigrants, under Woundwort's direction, dugtheir holes between the roots of the trees, in the undergrowth and along theditches. From the first the warren prospered. Woundwort watched over themwith a tireless zeal that won their loyalty even while they feared him. When thedoes stopped digging, Woundwort himself went on with their work while theyslept. If a man was coming, Woundwort spotted him half a mile away. He foughtrats, magpies, gray squirrels and, once, a crow. When litters were kindled, he keptan eye on their growth, picked out the strongest youngsters for the Owsla andtrained them himself. He would allow no rabbit to leave the warren. Quite earlyon, three who tried to do so were hunted down and forced to return.
As the warren grew, so Woundwort developed his system to keep it undercontrol. Crowds of rabbits feeding at morning and evening were likely to attractattention. He devised the Marks, each controlled by its own officers and sentries,with feeding times changed regularly to give all a share of early morning andsunset -- the favorite hours for silflay. All signs of rabbit life were concealed asclosely as possible. The Owsla had privileges in regard to feeding, mating andfreedom of movement. Any failure of duty on their part was liable to be punishedby demotion and loss of privileges. For ordinary rabbits, the punishments weremore severe.
When it was no longer possible for Woundwort to be everywhere, the Councilwas set up. Some of the members came from the Owsla, but others were selectedsolely for their loyalty or their cunning as advisers. Old Snowdrop was growingdeaf, but no one knew more than he about organizing a warren for safety. On hisadvice, the runs and burrows of the various Marks were not connectedunderground, so that disease or poison, if they came, would spread less readily.
Conspiracy would also spread less readily. To visit the burrows of another Markwas not allowed without an officer's permission. It was on Snowdrop's advice,too, that Woundwort at length ordered that the warren was not to extend further,on account of the risk of detection and the weakening of central control. He waspersuaded only with difficulty, for the new policy frustrated his restless desire ofpower after power. This now needed another outlet, and soon after the warrenhad been stopped from growing he introduced the Wide Patrols.
The Wide Patrols began as mere forays or raids, led by Woundwort, into thesurrounding country. He would simply pick four or five of the Owsla and takethem out to look for trouble. On the first occasion they were lucky enough to findand kill a sick owl that had eaten a mouse that had eaten poison-dressed seedcorn. On the next, they came upon two hlessil whom they compelled to returnwith them to join the warren. Woundwort was no mere bully. He knew how toencourage other rabbits and to fill them with a spirit of emulation. It was not longbefore his officers were asking to be allowed to lead patrols. Woundwort wouldgive them tasks -- to search for hlessil in a certain direction or to find out whethera particular ditch or barn contained rats which could later be attacked in forceand driven out. Only from farms and gardens were they ordered to keep clear.
One of these patrols, led by a certain Captain Orchis, discovered a small warrentwo miles to the east, beyond the Kingsclere-Overton road, on the outskirts ofNutley Copse. The General led an expedition against it and broke it up, theprisoners being brought back to Efrafa, where a few of them later rose to beOwsla members themselves.
As the months went on, the Wide Patrols became systematic; during summerand early autumn there were usually two or three out at a time. There came to beno other rabbits for a long way round Efrafa and any who might wander into theneighborhood by chance were quickly picked up. Casualties in the Wide Patrolswere high, for the elil got to know that they went out. Often it would take all aleader's courage and skill to complete his task and bring his rabbits -- or some ofhis rabbits -- back to the warren. But the Owsla were proud of the risks they ran:
and, besides, Woundwort was in the habit of going out himself to see how theywere getting on. A patrol leader, more than a mile from Efrafa, limping up ahedgerow in the rain, would come upon the General squatting like a hare under atussock of darnel, and find himself required then and there to report what he hadbeen doing or why he was off his route. The patrols were the training grounds ofcunning trackers, swift runners and fierce fighters, and the casualties -- althoughthere might be as many as five or six in a bad month -- suited Woundwort'spurpose, for numbers needed keeping down and there were always freshvacancies in the Owsla, which the younger bucks did their best to be good enoughto fill. To feel that rabbits were competing to risk their lives at his orders gratifiedWoundwort, although he believed -- and so did his Council and his Owsla -- thathe was giving the warren peace and security at a price which was modest enough.
Nevertheless, this eveni............