Monkey Wars (26 page)

It was a dangerous moment. The truth Mico had stumbled on was devastatingly powerful. If the langur knew how they had been deceived and manipulated, how their entire history was built on lies, the troop would collapse into anarchy.

Everything was at stake now; everything hung in the balance.

With frightening clarity, Mico realized that unless he convinced Tyrell of his loyalty, he would never leave this room alive. For all he knew, Barbaries were waiting outside the room right now, ready to deal with him swiftly should he become an obstacle.

Right and wrong would have to wait. Mico had to survive the next few moments.

So, with great solemnity, Mico prostrated himself on the floor with his arms spread wide and his nose in the dirt. “Forgive me for being unsure, Lord Tyrell. There's so much to understand. It's an honor to serve you…to be part of the world you've so brilliantly constructed.”

Mico waited in silence to see if his lie would be swallowed. All he wanted was to get away from Tyrell, to find a place where he could think through the chaos in his mind.

He felt Tyrell's hands grip his shoulders and lift him up. “You'll serve by my side, Mico, not at my feet. I couldn't have done this without you. Your brilliant mind, stuffed so full of ideas, has made all this possible.”

The Supreme Leader of the Langur Troop, Overlord and Protector of the Provinces, held Mico tightly in his arms, convinced of the undying loyalty of his faithful colonel.

But inwardly Mico shuddered.

S
ilence.

More than anything that was what Mico needed. Silence in which to try and untangle the twisted mess of his life. But he had forgotten that today was Empire Day, the traditional celebration of the langur conquest of the Eastern Province, a day about as far from silence as you could get.

He arrived home to find Hister setting out piles of fruit and dates, cleaning the rooms with a bundle of grass and laying new palm leaves on the floor. As soon as she saw him, she hurried over. “You look tired, Mico. Why not get some sleep before everyone arrives?”

Hister was always so concerned for him, but they both knew there was no time to rest; their families would be arriving shortly in a noisy rush. Mico would just have to grit his teeth and get through this.

Breri and Bandha were the first to turn up, followed by Trumble and Kima carrying yet more food. Hister had three younger sisters, who arrived screeching and cavorting with delight as their parents struggled to control them. In no time Mico's home was transformed into an energetic whirl of wrestling and chasing. While the youngsters ran riot, the males talked about troop politics and the females congregated by the piles of food to share gossip.

The conversations swirled round Mico like warm currents of air on a summer evening. He should have taken such comfort from them, been nourished by their familiarity, but all he could feel was an intense loneliness. He was adrift in the heart of his own family. They seemed to occupy a different reality, an uncomplicated, unquestioning reality where everything meant what it said.

A snatch of conversation drifted past him—Breri was holding forth, broadcasting his half-baked thoughts. “Every animal has its place—it's what makes the city work. Lord Tyrell's our leader—that's his place. I'm an elite—that's my place. But the rhesus, they don't know where they belong.”

Trumble nodded, drawn in by Breri's catchy phrases.

“First they take on the humans,” Breri continued. “Then they wage war on us. Someone has to deal with them, and right now we're the only ones with the guts.”

What a fool
, thought Mico. As usual, his brother went for the easiest answer. Never mind that it was ill considered, it justified Breri's whole approach to life: follow the strongest voice, because asking questions was too much like hard work.

There was a sudden flurry of excitement outside. Hister put her head round the door to see what was going on, then gave a laugh of delight. She came back into the room followed by some young cadets who were carrying two large baskets between them.

“For Colonel Mico's family, with the compliments of Lord Tyrell,” the cadets announced as they put down baskets stuffed full with honeycombs, the rarest fruits and stolen chocolate, all garnished with handfuls of sugar cubes.

A delighted cheer erupted and the monkeys vied to congratulate Mico. Trumble and Kima were bursting with pride that their son had achieved such status, Hister clung to him possessively and Breri gloated while greedily eyeing the food.

Mico was the only one who wasn't impressed; he alone knew his life was a sham, that he was an utter failure.

For all his power, he was impotent—if he exposed the truth about Tyrell's regime, he would shatter langur society; if he perpetuated the lie, he would be propping up the tyrant.

Worse still was the guilty knowledge stabbing his heart that this was as much
his
regime as Tyrell's. He had helped him grab the reins of power; he had manipulated public opinion and created a weapon of terror. Mico had set out to achieve peace, but had ended up escalating the war.

He had been a fool, and he had been fooled. And a pile of dead bodies was the terrible price of his mistake.

Mico shuddered as he remembered the slaughtered bonnets; Papina's mother, plucked from her bath and butchered; and even Lord Gospodar's agony-racked body on the floor of the Great Vault. Having boasted about using poisoned kiwis to vanquish rival cadets, Tyrell wouldn't have hesitated to use similar means to remove Gospodar.

As Mico's family feasted on the delicacies, a feverish heat suddenly gripped his body; it was as if the air inside was too heavy to breathe. Excusing himself, he slipped away from the celebration.

Mico cut a lonely figure standing on the roof of his tomb, struggling for breath. He looked at his trembling hands and saw the Intelligence Division tattoo on his palm. Once it had been a badge of office, a symbol that gave him power and influence; now it was a mark of guilt, indelible.

He felt his balance failing and he slumped down, paralysis tearing through his body. A wave of fear engulfed him as he realized he must be dying, his body finally breaking under the strain.

And then a moment of hope. Perhaps death would atone for his crimes, absolve him of guilt.

The panic subsided, replaced by calm resignation. He fell backward and let the peace overwhelm him. No more fighting, no more struggle; the gray haze of resignation numbed everything as it took control of Mico's little body.

He saw a single cloud, white against the deep blue sky, drifting past high above, utterly indifferent to the fate of monkeys below.

Then Mico closed his eyes and fell into darkness.

N
o one wanted to come near him. The langur had a fear of sickness, especially one as strange as this, and they stayed away.

Only Hister stuck by Mico. As he lay motionless and silent on the floor of their sleeping chamber, she watched over him, gently bathing his body with water.

At dawn, Tyrell arrived—he'd only just been told the news, and he scrutinized Mico closely.

“Has he spoken?”

“No, my lord,” replied Hister.

“Did he say anything…s
trange, before he collapsed?”

“Strange?”

“Unusual. About things in the past, maybe?”

Hister shook her head, not sure what he was driving at.

Tyrell put a hand on Mico's shoulder and shook him. “Mico. It's me. Speak to me.”

No reply, just the steady rhythm of breathing.

The inexplicable worried Tyrell; it turned his mind to dark thoughts and made uneasy connections. Now he was starting to wonder if it was coincidence that Mico had fallen ill just after being told secret truths about the langur.

Deciding that he needed to keep a close eye on the situation, Tyrell arranged for Mico to be taken to a special room in the Great Vault. Overlooking the long pool, it echoed peacefully to the sound of gently running water. Here Hister sat with him day and night, patiently dripping milk and honey into his mouth, lovingly placing clean palm leaves under him.

And there Mico lay, silent, still, oblivious to the world. It was as if some inner power had taken hold, forcing Mico to surrender, so that it could heal him.

But it would take time.

On the other side of the city, another monkey's patience was running out; and as it did, her heart cracked.

Papina perched on top of the Hanuman statue, looking out across the bustling streets. She had sat here so many times with Mico. This was where they'd laughed and teased, argued and loved. Now all that seemed a lifetime ago.

Mico had sworn he would avenge Willow's murder, but that was a full moon ago, and nothing had been heard of him since. He'd vanished.

It made Papina feel cursed; sooner or later everything she loved was snatched away—her childhood home, her parents, and now Mico. She had waited so patiently for him, but the silence could only mean bad news: either he had abandoned her, or he was dead.

She looked down at the rhesus thronging in the square. There was no shortage of eligible males who had an eye for her, but she couldn't face the pain of entanglement. She had to close her heart, let no monkey, no home, no friendship get so close that it made her vulnerable.

From now on her solitude would be her strength.

Tyrell sat brooding in the summer house tower. He had trusted Mico like a son, shared all the deepest secrets of power with him, yet now he had withdrawn to a strange, unreachable place.

With each passing day that Mico remained unconscious, the lord ruler became more anxious, and whenever Tyrell felt anxious, he tightened his control; it was a reflex reaction.

So he set to work.

Attacks by the “resistance” intensified, whipping up the climate of fear, and kidnappings became so commonplace that civilian monkeys were no longer allowed out into the city. Gone were the days of innocent raiding parties hitting the markets; now only military patrols ventured beyond the safety of langur walls.

To avoid malnourish
ment, Tyrell ordered the elites to bring back enough food for the whole troop; this was then handed out through official centers. The entire business of gathering and distributing food now came directly under Tyrell's command.

Most were grateful that action was being taken by the leadership to keep everyone safe, and although some older monkeys resented the curtailment of their freedom to roam, no one objected too vehemently. After all, who was going to speak out against a regime that provided all the food?

And with everyone but the military now confined inside the walls, the langur became totally reliant on official reports for news. Which meant Tyrell controlled the flow of information as well.

Hidden away in the middle of the Great Vault, Mico's body patiently carried on the painstaking task of healing itself, until finally his mind started to reemerge.

At first it was just for a few moments, long enough to hear snatches of conversati
on…someone asking questions. Was he feeling better? Did he need anything?

Still too weak to respond, Mico grasped on to whatever words he could before lapsing back into oblivion, like a drowning monkey being sucked down by the currents.

Gradually his periods of awareness grew longer, a sense of the continuity of time returned, and as he started to regain the ability to talk, friends and family felt bold enough to visit.

The first to come were his parents who were unflagging in their care: Kima brought food and healing herbs, while Trumble helped Mico regain his coordination by playing “Catch the Orange.” Mico was humbled by their patient tenderness.

The biggest revelation, though, was Hister. Mico had always taken her for granted, thinking of her as a trophy, but coping with illness had brought out hidden qualities in her.

When he thought of all she had done for him, Mico's heart filled with a turbulent mix of emotions—g
ratitude, guilt, and perhaps even love.

Desperate to avoid facing the lie at the center of his life, Mico focused his mind entirely on healing. Helped by his family, he pushed his frail body to reclaim a little more with each passing day.

There was one visitor, however, who was determined to punch through to the heart of the matter.

“They told me you were on the mend,” Tyrell said as he strode into Mico's room one morning. “But I didn't want to be too hasty.”

He placed two ripe kiwis on the floor as a gift.

“I'm honored to see you,” Mico replied politely, trying to hide his unease.

“Good to have you back with us. You gave me quite a fright.”

“I'm sorry….I don't know what happened,” Mico ventured, but the words sounded hollow in his mouth.

“The pressures of leadership are not for everyone,” Tyrell said, looking at Mico intently.

“You think I'm weak.”

Tyrell shrugged. “I wonder if there's something about the langur stock that is inherently weak.”

Mico couldn't believe what he was hearing. In public Tyrell had always spoken eloquently about langur supremacy; yet here he was talking about weakness.

“Don't get me wrong,” Tyrell added sharply. “I love the langur. But no one can see the faults of a troop more clearly than its leader.” He paused as a smile played across his lips.

“The Barbaries, on the other hand, they have a strength deep in their hearts. A brutal strength. And their only need is to unleash that. Don't you agree, Mico? The Barbaries are everything we should aspire to be.”

Tyrell let the question sit like a heavy presence in the room.

This was the moment when Mico should offer his unequivocal support, but he remained silent, because the claws of guilt were tearing at his throat; silent because his heart had already decided that he could no longer be complicit in all the lies.

“Do you understand what I'm asking, Mico?” said Tyrell darkly.

Mico turned away. “Forgive me, Lord Tyrell, but I feel so tired. I need to sleep.”

Tyrell looked at him in silence, unblinking, as if seeing Mico for the first time. “I'm sorry to hear that. Truly sorry.”

Then he turned and was gone.

The encounter left Tyrell feeling deeply uneasy.

As he strode out of the Great Vault, his bodyguards fell into place around him, ushering him toward the cemetery gates.

There could be no excuses. Mico was well enough to understand what he was saying, so why hadn't he voiced his support?

Much as Tyrell admired Mico's intelligence, it was clear that for the time being he couldn't be relied on.

Maybe Tyrell just needed to be patient; maybe in time things would get back to normal.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Either way, to protect his own position, Tyrell needed to take bold action.