Chapter Five
The next morning came swiftly, and as the sun began to appear over the horizon, Beast's Haven's pigeons had taken to the sky, flying towards Animal Farm. The journey was short, far shorter than walking or driving, and within the next half-hour, the famous farm had come into view. Although they could not yet read, the pigeons could see the Seven Commandments written clearly on the side of big barn. They could make out animals in their stalls, eating their breakfast before heading off to start on the day's chores. The pigeons were noticed by them, and breakfast had quickly been forgotten as the animals had gathered together outside. Three pigs had come to the front of the gathering, Old Major's three disciples: Snowball, Napoleon, and Squealer.
"Hmph…" snorted Napoleon gruffly. "I thought those pigeons had come back yesterday…"
"They did," replied Snowball.
The pigeons landed before the three pigs, one of them speaking up while the others caught their breath and preened their feathers.
"Comrades!" began the pigeon. "We bring you greetings from Beast's Haven, formerly known as the Golden Hills Farm! We've received inspiration to join in your rebellion, and have recently overthrown the cruel Farmer Irons and his men! We now seek an alliance with Animal Farm, and request lessons on reading and writing!"
The animals whispered amongst each other in fascination. It seemed Snowball's idea to spread the word of Animalism had been successful. The boar in question perked a bit, a smile stretching across his face. Napoleon, however, narrowed his eyes. Nothing had angered him more than seeing Snowball being right. He shared a glance with his cohort, the fat porker, Squealer. The porker didn't even have to say anything; Napoleon knew what he had to do.
"Comrades," Napoleon said, turning to the crowd. "This is, of course, glorious news for our farm. I say we must greet our new comrades immediately, today, in fact, and teach them the proper way to form their society." The animals spoke at once, approving greatly of this idea. Snowball, however, gave Napoleon a hard stare. The nerve of the Berkshire!
"When will we be leaving?" asked somebody.
"After breakfast sounds about right," Snowball answered.
"Though, not everyone will be able to leave the farm," added Napoleon. "There is still work to be done."
"I'll be glad to stay and work," volunteered Boxer, not that anyone was surprised. "I will work harder in everyone else's absence."
"Your efforts are greatly appreciated, Comrade Boxer," Snowball said with a nod.
"Can I go?" asked an eager Mollie. It was, perhaps, the first time she'd shown any excitement for anything since the Rebellion. "I probably can't work today, anyway. Er, that rock's still in my hoof from yesterday." Some of the animals stared at the white mare suspiciously.
"There was no rock in your hoof yesterday," said Snowball sternly. "I think it would be better if you caught up on your missed duties, Mollie."
Mollie stamped her hoof in frustration, and as the pigeons' visit carried on, some animals noticed that she had trotted off towards the barn.
"It is in my opinion," Squealer spoke up, his tail wagging in an almost playful fashion. "That only the pigs, Clover, and the dogs go to Beast's Haven." The other animals immediately began to argue, but Squealer was quick to explain. "Comrades, comrades...as you all know, we pigs are the brains of the farm. The dogs are natural defenders, and can protect us pigs from wild animals who were, sadly, unable to be "re-educated" by Comrade Snowball." The attack, of course, went over the heads of most of the other animals, and the white boar stared intensely at the porker. "Clover can provide the same sort of defense, though I believe her massive size will deter any wild animals from attacking. The reason the rest of you must stay is because the fall harvest needs to be protected, and our borders patrolled. Unless you want our work of the summer to be sabotaged by Jones…?"
The animals found that they couldn't argue, not even Snowball, though he did make a point to promise that every animal would have their chance to visit Beast's Haven at some point or another. Napoleon told the pigeons to return to Beast's Haven, and to inform the pigs there-who surely had taken leadership over the their animals-that their requests were granted. The pigeons took off after that, and the animals headed back to their troughs to finish up their morning rations.
"Are you excited to visit Beast's Haven?" Boxer asked Clover as he munched on a mouthful of oats.
"I think I am," the mare responded. "Though I feel bad for the others. Surely a few more animals could be spared from a day's work."
"Who wants to go to another smelly, old farm anyway?" a bitter Mollie interjected from afar, her tail lashing and her hoof pawing at the straw. No one bothered to answer, not that it stopped her from grumbling to herself.
"More work means a better farm," said Boxer to Clover. "And more animals means Jones won't attack."
"I suppose so...though, I wonder why Benjamin wasn't invited to go. He could help me fight off wild dogs easily."
"Too old," Benjamin suddenly said, having been eating beside them. The old donkey turned his muzzle towards the two carthorses, his eyes narrowed. "'Sides, Molly's right...for once."
"Excuse me!?"
"If I wanted to stand around in a barn all day," the donkey continued. "I'd do it here."
It was a valid point, and Clover and Boxer decided to leave it at that. They returned to their feeding, although a thought had come to Clover's mind. The pigeons had mentioned Farmer Irons, as well as Beast's Haven's original name. They sounded so familiar to her, though she couldn't for the life of her imagine why. Perhaps she was remembering it from a passing conversation Farmer Jones had had before the Rebellion. The mare supposed it was of no matter to her.
After breakfast, the pigs, the three dogs, Jessie, Bluebell and Pincher, and Clover made their way down to the farm gate. They headed out onto the open road, and made their way up north in the direction of Beast's Haven. Excitement, and slight fear, rushed through them, as most of them had never been beyond the farm's gates. Even Clover could hardly remember the last time she had left the farm to pull a wagon to the market. Napoleon and Squealer made sure to stay in the center of the group, while Snowball led the way. Farmer Jones had kept maps in the farmhouse, and Snowball had read through them thoroughly during the remainder of breakfast to make sure he knew the way. It was a long trip, an noon was upon them before they knew it. Many of the pigs grumbled about the sun, and Napoleon muttered about how the Beast's Haven pigs should've came to Animal Farm if they were so desperate to learn. Snowball was the only pig to suffer in silence, though not even he could hide his weariness. Though the journey was rough, they eventually arrived at the gates of Beast's Haven, though the name had yet to be painted on the sign. Up above, the pigeons circled about. Some of them flew away towards the barn, and not five minutes later, Plato had trotted down the stone road to the gate.
"Ah, hello there!" greeted the Yorkshire boar, tugging at the gate with his teeth.
"Let me help you with that, comrade," said Clover cheerfully, nudging at the gate with her hoof.
"Oh, thank you," Plato oinked with a sheepish smile. "Please, come in. You all must be very tired from your journey. Please, have a drink from the well and rest."
"How very kind of you," Snowball said politely. Plato led them all up the road, towards the farm buildings. Beast's Haven's animals were gathered in the courtyard, eagerly awaiting their guests.
"Make way, make way!" Plato called out. "Give some space to our guests! Someone fetch some water from the well!"
Bucket after bucket of water was drawn from the well, and the next ten minutes were spent cooling down the weary travelers. While that was going on, Poppy stood beside her father, watching the commotion, her hooves pawing frantically at the ground.
"It's her, Father…" she said softly.
"I know, love," replied Gale with a smile. "Look at her, she hasn't changed a bit."
"I...I want to go and say hello...but I'm afraid...what if she doesn't remember me?"
"Then you'll come as a lovely surprise." Gale gave his daughter a gentle nuzzle. "There's nothing to fear...Come on...say hello to your mother. I'll be right behind you."
Poppy's ears fell back out of fear, yet she took a step forward, followed by another. She began walking through the crowd, approaching the stout, middle-aged mare. Clover had just finished her drink at the well, having been the last to do so. Poppy delicately nudged her flank, causing her to turn around.
"Yes, can I help-?" Clover had began, but she cut herself off when she saw the younger mare. Poppy looked down, lifting a hoof.
"Erm...hello," greeted Poppy nervously. "M-My name is…"
"Poppy…" Clover finished. She now understood why this farm was so familiar to her. This was the place her last foal had been taken, bought by the fallen Farmer Irons. The older mare might not have had the greatest memory, but she could always recognize her own child.
"M-Mother…?" whispered Poppy, smiling hopefully. "You...remember me?"
"Of course, of course, of course!" Clover nodded, her eyes moist with tears. She stepped forward, nudging Poppy's muzzle with her own, her nostrils flaring as she took in the scent that had faded from her stable years ago. Poppy had forgotten the rest of the barn, the upcoming lessons, everything...her mother was all that mattered in that moment. Gale watched from a distance, figuring that he would introduce himself to Clover later. For now, he enjoyed the blissful reunion between the two mares.
"Mmph," Napoleon grunted, his eyes shifting about from building to building. He had tuned out the greetings from the other animals, but made a point to observe them closely. He was especially interested in Mary and Dodger's puppies. They were older than the nine Jessie and Bluebell had bore, but perhaps…
"This place could be of use to us, eh, Napoleon?" Squealer suddenly caught the boar's attention, stating exactly what he had been thinking. Napoleon nodded swiftly. "We should take advantage of this situation while we're here."
"Mmm…" murmured Napoleon, his eyes twinkling with desire. "Talk to the Yorkshire about the puppies after Snowball's pointless lessons are out of the way. He seemed to be the one in charge of things."
"As you wish, Napoleon," said Squealer, though he noticed that Napoleon seemed to be staring at something. Following the Berkshire's gaze, he noticed a certain Gloucestershire Old Spots gilt who was walking with Plato. She trotted confidently, her tail swishing from side to side. Squealer looked between her and Napoleon, and as he put two and two together, he couldn't help but snicker.
"Pretty, isn't she?"
"Mmm…"
"Heh...if I wasn't a porker…" Squealer paused, glancing at Napoleon out of the corner of his eye. "Perhaps I could court her on your behalf? It's never too early to start thinking about the future leaders of the farm."
"Very well," said Napoleon, who couldn't help but smirk at the thought. Now, there was an idea: a committee of pigs of his own blood, their minds manipulated by him. Snowball would never be a problem for him again.
The time for welcoming had soon come to an end, and Snowball requested that the animals assemble inside of the big barn. It was done, and within minutes, everyone was seated. Snowball, Napoleon, and Squealer took a seat on the hay bales, Snowball being the first to speak.
"Comrades!" the white boar began. "I wish you all congratulations for successfully liberating your farm! I believe that, with time, every other farm in the country will come to join us in overthrowing the humans, and creating a paradise for all animals! Please...before we go any further...allow me to tell you all of the boar who started all of this. Perhaps you've heard of him as the Willingdon Beauty, but on our farm, he was known as Old Major. He spoke to us months ago of a dream, a dream where Man had gone and animals were no longer threatened with slaughter or starvation. His ideas were in the interest of the generations of animals that would come after him. Animalism consists of Old Major's ideals, and function as an animal society, Beast's Heaven must implement them."
"Blimey," muttered Joan to Plato. "I didn't know you had a brother living at Animal Farm. He puts your speeches to shame."
"Joan," Plato scolded.
"I wonder who's the bigger stick in the mud. Him or you?"
"Joan!"
Snowball stopped talking then, looking over at Joan and Plato with a brow raised. Plato cleared his throat, chuckling awkwardly.
"Sorry about that," he called out. "Erm...carry on!"
"Right…" said Snowball. The boar continued with his speech, with Plato shook his head disapprovingly at a giggling Joan. Snowball explained the specifics of Animalism, including the seven commandments that would later have to be written somewhere on Beast Haven's property. Remembering Animal Farm's own simple-minded animals, and their struggle to remember the commandments, Snowball also spoke the maxim, "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad". The sheep wasted no time bleating the maxim, as had been done in Animal Farm. Balthasar was the only exception, though he did repeat the maxim in his head to keep from forget it. Issues brought up on Animal Farm were readdressed, such as the prospect of wings counting as legs rather than arms or hands.
After that, the animals were split into groups, so that one or two of Animal Farm's pigs could spend time teaching a few animals at a time. Snowball sent for whatever sort of books, parchment, and writing utensils lay within the farmhouse. Jessie and Bluebell took to watching over the puppies, as they would most likely be too playful and rambunctious to sit and listen to the pigs teach. Mary would give them their lessons later. Squealer trotted after Joan, whispering into her ear as he nudged her towards his group.
"Hello there, Joan, is it?" he began. "I thought it was necessary to inform you that one of my comrades has taken quite a liking to you…"
"Excuse me?" Joan replied, looking at the fat porker with a cocked brow.
"Indeed. The Berkshire, Comrade Napoleon. He caught sight of you earlier, but alas, the poor boy is dreadfully shy. So I thought I'd speak on his behalf. He finds you very beautiful…" Joan found herself unable to deliver a sharp or witty reply. It was one of those instances where she was stunned speechless. The young female never really had any concern for love, nor had she ever really thought of herself as...beautiful. Joan was unsure of what to make of the situation.
"Er…that's...awfully nice of him to say, but…"
"Oh, before you try to turn him down," Squealer suddenly interrupted. "Perhaps you could meet him after our lessons to...get to know him better, hehe…" Joan furrowed her brow.
"I'm not interested," the gilt said firmly. A dark look flashed in Squealer's beady, little eyes, before he made an almost pouty expression.
"Ah, but, Ms. Joan...this is Napoleon we're talking about, one of the founding fathers of Animalism, a pig who-and this is a little-known secret, as he is quite humble-led the way for Animal Farm to gain freedom and spread its teachings to other farms. Even if you have no interest in him, surely he deserves a bit of your time after all he's done for us?" Admittedly, Squealer's words made Joan feel a bit guilty. She couldn't be sure if what Squealer said of Napoleon was accurate, but she did feel some appreciation. Besides, it would just for a little while, then Napoleon would leave, and, hopefully, forget about her.
"Oh…" Joan finally said in defeat. "Very well…"
"Splendid!" cried Squealer. "Comrade Napoleon will be most honored!"
"Mmm-hmm…"
The lessons began shortly after that, though, with Squealer's words on her mind, Joan found it difficult to focus. The Animal Farm pigs taught their groups for about two hours. As with Animal Farm, the simpler creatures couldn't quite remember beyond B or C. Balthasar made it a bit farther, successfully making it to the letter F before his brain just couldn't remember anymore. Gale didn't seem to take much interest in his own education, instead, offering his full support as Clover helped Poppy to learn the entire alphabet. The younger mare had even learned to put together two-letter words, possibly the biggest success among the simpler animals. Mary, Dodger, the goats, and the pigs had little to no trouble in learning, and were at varying levels of reading by the end of the two-hour period. Of course, Snowball had said as things were wrapping up, practice was the key to improve, and everyone would need to spend their evenings studying after the work day. The Beast's Haven animals thanked their teachers, and broke away from their groups. Joan backed away from Squealer, hoping that he might've forgotten about her meeting with Napoleon.
"Comrade Joan!" the porker suddenly chirped, turning towards her. "Eager to meet with Comrade Napoleon, are we?"
"Ah...er…" Joan stammered.
"Excellent!" Squealer set down the collection of papers that had been used to practice writing letters, and got onto his feet. "Come now! I see him there, by the barn door!"
"Lovely…" Joan muttered under her breath, reluctantly following the fat porker. She could see Napoleon at the barn door, standing next to a conversing Snowball and Plato. The Berkshire glanced at Joan, his eyes meeting hers, and Joan felt a shiver run up her spine. She couldn't quite put her trotter on it, but Napoleon simply rubbed her the wrong way. Snowball and Plato broke their conversation, glancing over at the approaching pigs.
"Joan," Napoleon oinked gruffly.
"Erm...Napoleon," the gilt greeted in reply. The lack of her usual confidence had not gone unnoticed by Plato.
"Joan?" said the Yorkshire curiously. He looked between the gilt and Napoleon. "What's going-?"
"Nothing that need concern you, comrade," Squealer cut in. Plato was taken aback. "Just two comrades getting to know each other."
"I thought it'd be...the nice thing to do..." Joan added under her breath. An alarm went off in the back of Plato's mind; there was a hint of guilt on Joan's face that made Plato concerned that this wasn't entirely something that she agreed to do. He was prepared to speak up in protest, when Squealer interrupted once again.
"Comrade Plato...I was meaning to speak to you in private…" The porker shot Snowball a quick glance. "If I may…?"
"Er…" Snowball began, not really sure what to make of either Napoleon's or Squealer's actions. "I suppose if Comrade Plato is alright with it, but...we were in the middle of discussing the fall harvest-"
"I'm sure that can wait," said Squealer, walking off, no doubt expecting Plato to follow. The Yorkshire gave Snowball an apologetic smile.
"I'll be right back…"
"Ah..." replied Snowball awkwardly. "Alright." The white boar then stood there, alone, frowning deeply as he watched the other pigs trot off.