Monkey Wars

by Richard Kurti

  Willow was scratching between her toes with a twig when she heard Papina’s voice.

  “This is Mico.”

  Willow looked up and felt her stomach jolt as she saw the langur. Immediately she sprang over, pulled her daughter away and bared her teeth, ready to attack.

  “What is he doing here?” Willow demanded, her voice loaded with contempt.

  “He’s my friend,” urged Papina.

  Nervously Mico stretched out his hand, offering Willow a bright yellow lemon. “P-Papina said you liked these,” he stuttered.

  Willow looked at the lemon in disbelief. Did he really think the violations and abuse could all be atoned for with a lemon?

  “He’s been very kind to me,” Papina said with a firmness that warned her mother to tread carefully. “I know he’s a langur, but they’re not all the same. He’s taken a big risk coming here—the least we can do is offer him some breakfast.”

  “I’ll eat anything. Really, I’m not fussy,” said Mico, trying to please.

  It didn’t work.

  Willow glared at him with a thunderous scowl as more females gathered round to show their solidarity.

  Papina moved closer to Mico, trying to protect him. “You know what the langur teach their young? That rhesus monkeys are wild savages! Cannibals!” She scoffed at the absurdity of the idea. “What better way to prove them wrong than to share some fruit with him?”

  Even though Willow was furious with her daughter for showing such disloyalty, she hesitated, trying to understand what was going on in Papina’s confused mind. Suddenly another voice, hard and uncompromising, answered for her.

  “Give him nothing.”

  The monkeys spun round and saw Twitcher standing in the shadows. “He is the enemy of all monkeys; he is the destroyer of your homes and the killer of your families.” Twitcher paced closer as he spoke. “He is the one who has spread misery to monkeys across the city. He’s not welcome here.”

  None of them had seen this side to Twitcher before—gone was the easygoing charm. He turned to Willow and scowled at her in disbelief. “You should be ashamed to be standing next to him. You of all monkeys should know better.”

  “I brought him,” said Papina, stepping forward to defend her mother.

  It was not the answer Twitcher wanted to hear. He looked from Papina to Mico, sensing the connection between the two monkeys. It ignited a smoldering anger in his belly.

  “Please, I meant no harm coming here,” offered Mico. “Now I can see with my own eyes there’s been a terrible misunderstanding. You’re monkeys, just like us. Whatever happened in the past, things can be different. Thanks to Papina, I can take that message back.”

  “You want to take a message back?” said Twitcher, looming forward in a gesture of dominance. “Take this: remind them that it was us, the rhesus, who roamed this city freely when the langur were still a savage and forgotten troop. The humans loved us, talked to us—”

  “Then why did you turn on them?” Mico retorted.

  “We didn’t.”

  “But it was you who killed the human leader.”

  “Was it?” Twitcher looked at Mico with a penetrating gaze. “The human fell. He died. That much is true. There was evidence of monkeys, but no one actually saw what happened. No one. We were mischievous; we still are. But to kill?” Twitcher shook his head. “The idea that a rhesus would kill a human is an abomination. But the humans panicked. They turned monkey against monkey. They encouraged the langur to vent their jealous rage on us. We were driven from rooftops where we had lived peacefully for generations. Wherever we settled, the langur waged war on us. Now we’re reduced to this….” Twitcher’s arms swept around the gardens. “Refugees huddled in the shadow of a statue.”

  Twitcher glared at Mico with grim foreboding. “The humans don’t understand what they’ve unleashed. But one day…one day the langur will overreach themselves. When they fall, their enemies will be waiting to pounce—and we’ll be the first to remind them of the suffering they’ve meted out.” He looked at Mico with hatred and contempt. “Go tell your troop that.”

  It was a long, lonely walk back across the city; as Papina had been forbidden to accompany him, a hurriedly explained route and some quickly memorized landmarks were all Mico had to go on.

  Getting home, though, was the least of his problems; Mico was lost in a much more profound way, his mind reeling from Twitcher’s version of history.

  He tried to reassure himself that the langur were the chosen troop who had brought peace and restored order. Surely if what Twitcher said was true, Mico’s mother and father would have known what was going on. His father was well connected and played an important role in the troop; no way would he have stood quietly by while innocent monkeys were persecuted.

  On the other hand, if the langur version of events was true, and the rhesus really were debased barbarians, he couldn’t understand why Papina was the way she was.

  Which history should he believe?

  The question swirled round and round in Mico’s mind until before he knew it, he was standing outside the cemetery walls. Quickly he dived in through the pool and made his way home, pretending that it had been so hot in the night he’d slept out under the stars.

  No one believed him. Worse still, this wasn’t just any day he’d gone missing—today was Warrior Day, when gifted cadets who showed a real talent for fighting were inducted straight into the elites, and Breri would be among them.

  Not surprisingly, his parents were fussing around Breri like flies, grooming him again and again until his fur shone, and as soon as Mico showed his face, they all rounded on him.

  “Where have you been!”

  “You know today is your brother’s special day!”

  “They’ve sent three patrols out looking for you!”

  Faced with the barrage of hostility, Mico retreated and scampered over to Cadet School, where Gu-Nah was too busy drilling the guard of honor to waste much energy bawling Mico out. Instead he ordered him to remove every leaf and twig from the parade area until it was pristine.

  Mico accepted his punishment silently; considering how many rules he’d broken that night, he was relieved that everyone was too preoccupied to ask more searching questions.

  The ceremony was held in great esteem by the langur. It began with every family in the troop bringing a coconut shell filled with fresh water to the steps of the Great Vault. Lord Gospodar had to take a sip from the shells, then select a certain number which were put on the top step. He would then take each of these coconuts in turn and approach one of the cadets to be inducted.

  “From all the monkeys before me, you stand out as one of the troop’s very finest,” Gospodar would say with great solemnity.

  “I am honored, my lord,” the soldier would reply.

  “Will you dedicate your entire being, tooth and tail, to the service of the langur troop?”

  “I will.”

  Gospodar would then drink from the shell and offer it to the soldier, who would drink the remaining water; when it was finished, the cadet had become an elite.

  Mico watched intently as Gospodar moved down the line, getting closer and closer to Breri. He could see the haughty pride written on every line of his brother’s face, the total belief in his own superiority; he was born for the elites, and he knew it. When Mico looked over to his parents, he could see that they shared this conviction.

  Finally it was Breri’s turn.

  “From all the monkeys before me, you, Breri, stand out as one of the troop’s very finest,” Gospodar pronounced. It was a small gesture, but one that everyone had noticed—Lord Gospodar had broken protocol and mentioned Breri by name, surely a sign of great favor. Mico glanced over to his parents, who were trembling with excitement.

  “I am honored, my lord,” Breri replied.

  “Will you dedicate your entire being, tooth and tail, to the service of the langur troop?”

  “I will.”

  Lord Gospodar smiled and d
rank from the shell, offered the remainder to Breri, who finished the water, and the moment was complete.

  Mico shuddered as he realized the enormity of the gulf between him and his brother. If he was going to persist in his search for the truth he would never be able to talk about it with anyone, not even his own family, especially his own family.

  From now on Mico would be walking a lonely path.

  As usual, the Warrior Day Feast was held in the Great Vault. The instructors chatted casually with the new elites, treating them as equals; parents crowed over their offspring, basking in the reflected glory; and a group of pretty young female monkeys were busy charming the troop’s rising stars.

  It was a magic circle of exclusivity, and Mico wasn’t part of it. Instead he helped himself to a couple of oranges and found a quiet spot by the pool. But just as he was squeezing the first orange into his mouth, a voice spoke to him.

  “You’re looking very worried, Cadet Mico.”

  He looked up and saw Deputy Tyrell standing over him.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I was just…,” he said, springing to his feet, but Tyrell waved the formalities aside with a nonchalant sweep of his arm, and he sat down next to Mico.

  “Try bathing your feet. It’s most refreshing. When your feet are cool, your whole body is comfortable,” he said with avuncular charm, and dipped his toes into the water to demonstrate.

  Mico hesitated; it seemed wrong to behave so casually with such a high-ranking official. Tyrell turned and looked at him with his penetrating gaze.

  “No need to be afraid. I know you’re not like the other monkeys.”

  There was a dark ambiguity to Tyrell’s words, and Mico felt sure he would only antagonize the deputy if he rejected his advice, so he dutifully let his feet dangle in the water.

  “So,” Tyrell went on, “what’s on your mind?”

  Mico scrambled to think of a convincing lie to explain why he was so gloomy when his family was so happy.

  “Worried you won’t be able to live up to your brother’s achievements?” Tyrell suggested.

  Mico nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  A sly smile crossed Tyrell’s face. “You’re not a very good liar yet.”

  Mico felt the sweat break on his brow; it was as if Tyrell could read his mind, look straight into his wavering heart.

  “Now tell me,” Tyrell said with chilling calm, “what is on your mind?”

  Mico knew he wouldn’t get away with another lie, but the truth was out of the question.

  “It’s just that”—he glanced over at the new elites—“the battle’s been won—the rhesus have been defeated—but still all we talk about is fighting. Shouldn’t we be thinking about what happens next, sir?”

  Tyrell scrutinized Mico for a few agonizing moments. Then slowly a smile broke across the deputy’s face. “That’s why you are destined for greater things, Mico. Far greater than them,” he said, throwing a derisive glance at the elites. “They just obey, but you…you dare to question.”

  Mico was stunned; it was the first time he’d heard anyone speak dismissively of the elites.

  “The fact is,” Tyrell continued, “the battle is never over. The rhesus have been defeated, but not eliminated.” He chose the word carefully and uttered it with cold precision. “Sooner or later they are going to rise up, thirsty for vengeance. In fact we already have intelligence reports that a rhesus resistance is forming, determined to stir up trouble.”

  This was news to Mico; he’d never heard Papina talk about a resistance.

  “A troop should know when it’s beaten,” Tyrell continued. “Sadly the rhesus have not learned their lesson. So we’ll just have to press them harder.”

  But when Tyrell looked at Mico, he saw hesitation. “You are with us on this, Mico?”

  “Yes. Of course, sir.”

  “The langur must take responsibility for the city’s monkeys, no matter how heavy the burden. We are the chosen troop.”

  “The city is looking to us, sir,” Mico said, dutifully quoting the troop’s mantra.

  But Tyrell sensed his doubts. “Why do you hesitate? Perhaps you don’t relish the fight because you’re small.” He looked Mico up and down, perfectly aware of how the accusation would hurt.

  “I’ve proved myself in cadets, sir. Ask my instructors.”

  Tyrell smiled indulgently. “You know, I hated being small when I was your age. I tried everything—dangling from trees to stretch my arms, overeating till I was sick, trying to bulk myself up.”

  Mico felt a sudden kinship with the deputy. He too had tried every imaginable trick to grow taller, and not one of them had worked.

  “Then I realized,” Tyrell went on, “not all monkeys fight in the same way.”

  “I don’t quite follow, sir.”

  Tyrell studied Mico with a burning intensity. “When I look at you I see a kindred spirit. We are not like the others, Mico. Our minds are what give us strength. But turning that strength into power is not so easy. I could help you there. If I knew that you were loyal, truly loyal…to me.”

  He let the words hang in the air between them. Mico sensed that just for a moment he had glimpsed a dark secret. “Me,” Tyrell had said. “Loyal to me.” Not “the troop.”

  “Such loyalty could be rewarded with untold power,” Tyrell whispered. It was the voice of pure temptation. Mico looked at him in silence, trying to work out exactly what was being offered, when suddenly a breathless footsoldier pushed through the crowd.

  “Forgive the interruption, sir! But there’s trouble!”

  Tyrell quickly led the footsoldier to one side where no one could hear them talk. Mico watched closely—judging by the alarmed gestures and the growing concern on the deputy’s face, this was serious.

  Moments later Tyrell made his way over to Gospodar for more urgent briefings, and now the other monkeys were starting to sense the electric atmosphere. Speculation started to run wild, until finally Lord Gospodar swung up onto a plinth.

  “My fellow langur!” he boomed in somber tones. “Today we celebrated the achievement of our most courageous young monkeys; would that they never had to shed a drop of blood.” Gospodar looked across the sea of attentive faces. “But Deputy Tyrell has just informed me of a terrible atrocity. The bonnet macaques have stolen a human baby!”

  A ripple of shock pulsed through the troop.

  “The rhesus anarchy that we have battled against for so long has now spread to the bonnets!”

  The newly promoted elites bristled with anticipation as they realized another war was imminent; mothers who were so proud of their martial sons only moments before now instinctively reached out to cling on to them.

  “The city is looking to us,” Gospodar declared. “It needs us to eradicate the scourge of savage monkeys! The Ruling Council and I are of one mind: in the name of peace, we must mobilize for war!”

  A roll of ground-thumping broke out, everyone was talking at once, fired up with a sense of purpose. Even Mico was caught up, now he could confront Twitcher with proof—the bonnet macaques had crossed the line between humans and monkeys, they had violated the natural order, and only the langur had the courage and strength to set things straight.

  Immediately the whole troop went onto war footing. Trumble was assigned three assistants to help with the complex task of setting up a supply chain for the soldiers; female monkeys were instructed to set aside their domestic chores and report for special duties gathering stones for ammunition and sorting branches to be used for fighting sticks; throughout the cemetery, monkeys old and young psyched themselves up for battle.

  Breri’s elite squad was to be part of the main attack force and they were moved into advanced positions near the bonnets’ territory. Mico’s cadet squad was deployed to an old railway signal box that had long since fallen into disuse. From here they could see both ways: forward to the bridge that marked the start of bonnet territory, and back to the cemetery perched on the hill. The cadets’ job was to ferry food and weapons fo
rward, and carry any wounded langurs safely back.

  The preparations were arduous, and as daylight faded so did the cadets’ initial excitement; the sense of imminent danger became palpable.

  As Mico looked around the gloomy signal box, he couldn’t help thinking that by this time tomorrow it could be strewn with the bloodied bodies of wounded fighters. Suddenly warfare wasn’t something that happened to others; it would be his friends—his own brother—who would be right in the thick of it.

  And there was another worry.

  It made Mico feel guilty even to be thinking about it at a time like this, but he couldn’t help it: Papina.

  He looked up at the moon—it was just reaching its highest point, which meant he should have been secretly meeting her. Defying her mother, she’d still agreed to meet him and hiding in the shadows outside the cemetery wall, she would have no way of knowing that there’d been a sudden mobilization. Most likely she would assume that Twitcher’s harsh words had made Mico change his mind about her, that he wanted to end their friendship.

  Nothing could have been further from the truth, but Mico had no chance of explaining that to her now. And if the battle turned ugly, who knew when, or if, he’d ever have a chance.

  Soames snorted with laughter.

  “I get it! Good one…very good.” And still chuckling, he popped a couple more juniper berries into his mouth.

  His friend Morton looked up quizzically. He’d told Soames the joke yesterday, and he’d only just got it? Morton shook his head. Good job they weren’t in a hurry. But then the bonnet macaques were never in a hurry, especially in the afternoons.

  For as long as any of them could remember it had been their custom to gather when the shadows of the trees reached the crumbling walls, and take juniper berries on the Great Lawn. It was one of those traditions that made the troop feel calmly in control of its destiny.

  Morton and Soames were the leaders of the bonnets. Getting on in years, they weren’t particularly bright or agile, but they had an aristocratic bearing that commanded respect.