And the King of the Elephants had commanded his aides to gather elephants from every land so he might send them forth to wage war against the crocodiles.And it was only a few short days before a great multitude of elephants assembled, and the earth trembled beneath their thunderous cries. The Elephant King summoned some of them and said:
"Go to the crocodiles—slay them and their master."
No sooner had the elephants before him heard this command than they turned, trumpeting loudly as they marched, with the rest of the herd following behind, their calls rising in a fierce uproar.
But when the monkey saw what had happened, a different plan began to form in his mind—one that clashed entirely with the Elephant King's approach. He hurried forward and stood before the king, bowing low:
"My lord… may Your Majesty grant me leave to raise my head and speak?"
The Elephant King, long impressed by the monkey's exquisite manners—ever-present in his words and movements—nodded with great approval. The more the monkey displayed humility and refined conduct, the more the king grew attached to him. And the monkey, fully aware of this, used such behavior to convince the king that he alone possessed a wisdom beyond the rest of the beasts.
Immersed in this belief, the Elephant King replied:
"Raise your head, and speak—your counsel is indispensable."
"My lord, though your judgment precedes and surpasses all others, war requires patience and careful planning—planning that would bring Your Majesty the greatest advantage."
"What do you propose?"
"My opinion is that Your Majesty recalls the elephants and awaits them, until we devise a sound strategy."
"But the elephants now know of the enmity between you and the Crocodile King. They believe nothing can settle it except war. It would not serve us well for the crocodiles to learn what we are preparing."
"And how," asked the king, "would the Crocodile King ever know what we do?"
"News may slip from the elephants themselves," the monkey replied calmly, "for they trumpet their pride before the battle even begins."
"How your vigilance amazes me," said the Elephant King, "and how sound your reasoning is."
"So let Your Majesty," continued the monkey, "inform the elephants that the decision of war has been dismissed, lest they continue believing they were gathered for battle."
The Elephant King sent messengers to recall the elephants. They returned at once. He then informed them that he had changed his mind and abandoned the idea of war with the crocodiles—for now.Then he turned to the monkey:
"What is your plan for defeating the crocodiles?"
"My lord," said the monkey, "grant me a full day and night in seclusion, and by dawn I shall present that which gladdens Your Majesty's heart."
The king agreed, and the monkey withdrew, pondering his schemes.By the next morning, he returned cheerful and triumphant, and—after receiving permission to speak—declared:
"Rejoice, my lord."
"With what?"
"With victory."
"What victory?"
"The victory our stratagem shall seize."
"Speak plainly—I cannot understand this riddling talk."
"Let me speak to Your Majesty in private."
The king ordered the chamber cleared, and when they were alone, he asked:
"What have you?"
"My lord, if we are to wage war against the crocodiles—we must befriend them."
"How?" cried the king. "We fight them and befriend them at the same time? I have never heard of such a thing! Either we go to war and prepare for it, or we befriend them and abandon the idea entirely."
"My lord," said the monkey patiently, "when a king seeks war, does he not need to watch the enemy and gather knowledge of their movements?"
"Yes. Observing the enemy is essential."
"Then understand, my lord: if we appear as their friends, we may observe them closely, uncover their secrets, and learn what stirs in their hearts. For once they trust us, they will speak freely, and may even include us in their affairs. That, my lord, is what I intend."
"How astonishing," murmured the king. "How did such a thought come to you?"
"By Your Majesty's inspiration," the monkey replied smoothly. "But the crocodiles will not trust us, knowing that I exist—after all, the bull told them that I am your advisor."
"We shall send them a message," said the monkey.
"What message? What shall it say?"
"It shall say:'Your messenger, the bull, came to me bearing strange words, claiming he was sent to spy on our kingdom and bring you news, for you intend war. He confided these things to me because of an old acquaintance. These reports have troubled me deeply, and so I seek to know from you the truth of the matter. Long have there been bonds between us—we love the waters as you do, and our life beside you has always been peaceful and good. Yet the bull claims you keep a monkey to advise you in such matters.'"
"What is this nonsense?" the Elephant King objected. "He did not send the bull—we sent him! And you are advising me here, not advising the crocodile there. Why the lies? No… I refuse this message."
"My lord… You know that warfare is deception."
"Deception, yes—not lies."
"My lord," said the monkey, bowing his head humbly, "in war, in planning, in diplomacy, in letters sent to hostile rulers… all of it is deception. And deception, in its highest form—is precisely this."
"Who says so?" demanded the king.
"Hashu, Raba, Dobi, Kubal, and Sydor—the greatest masters of political wisdom. And their sayings were affirmed by Afrak and Manubak, renowned scholars of ethics."
"Indeed… yes… I recall their teachings now. I learned them in my youth. Long years have passed, and I had forgotten."
The king fell into thought, then exclaimed:
"You forgot one of the great sages! His name is on the tip of my tongue… he… he…"
"Tafil," whispered the monkey helpfully.
"Yes! Exactly! Tafil. His sayings are magnificent."
"Indeed, my lord," said the monkey. "Shall I remind you of his most famous?"
"I know it, but remind me."
"Tafil said: 'Falsehood is the natural throne of a king's politics.'"
"Yes… yes… I remember now. And he also said…"
"No ruler succeeds unless he masters deception," continued the monkey.
"Exactly! Precisely!"
"And so, my lord," the monkey continued with a clever glint in his eye, "I suggest that your newborn son be named Ta—"
"Ta? What is Ta?"
"You are his father, and he is Ta… so his name shall be Tafil, in honor of the great sage. And I foresee that he shall have a brilliant future in the art of ruling."
"What a splendid choice!" the king exclaimed.
"And now, my lord," said the monkey, "our message to the Crocodile King will clear us of suspicion. He will think the bull came to sow discord on his own. He will trust us, drawing near. And when he learns that I am not with you, he will believe I am grieving the loss of the crown, and seeking to reclaim it—thus easing his fears."
"Repeat this," said the Elephant King, "slowly. Your ideas multiply too swiftly, and kings cannot be taught politics in such a fashion."
"Forgive me, my lord."
And so the monkey repeated the plan, step by step, until the Elephant King understood it fully. At last he laughed loudly, tilting his head back, lifting one massive foot in delight, and patting the monkey's shoulder—nearly crushing him in the process. The monkey forced a polite laugh and quickly stepped aside for safety, fearing that future approval might come in similar… heavy-handed ways.
The monkey continued:
"And of course, my lord, the Crocodile King will reply, denying that he ever sent the bull, condemning the bull's treachery, and adding that he has no monkey to advise him—that he has a human instead."
"A human?" gasped the king.
"Yes, my lord. A human."
"The most dangerous creature ever created! And you—are you not a monkey?"
"No, my lord… I am a human. But a developed human."
"Does he resemble you?"
"In some ways, yes. But he lacks tail and fur. Or rather, I have more than he: extra fur, and a tail."
"Yet you said in the message that I have a monkey advising me! The crocodiles do not joke with such words!"
The monkey froze for a moment, rage swelling in his chest at being called a monkey, but he mastered himself with effort, his mind racing.
The Elephant King continued, not noticing his fury:
"Let us finish with them first," the monkey muttered quietly, "then we shall return to my lord…"
The king, as usual, understood some of the words and failed to grasp the rest.The monkey resumed:
"And when we receive the Crocodile King's reply, we shall send him magnificent gifts—symbols of loyalty and friendship—and, in addition, two elephants to serve him."
"Send him two elephants as a gift?" the king asked incredulously.
"Yes, my lord. These two elephants will serve the crocodiles faithfully—or pretend to—and show diligence and devotion, until they win his trust. Then we shall learn from them every secret."
"You want the elephants to be loyal to the Crocodile King?"
"No, my lord. They will pretend to be loyal. Their loyalty will be a mask. We must train them well for this mission."
"How extraordinary… how did such an idea enter your mind?"
At that moment, one of the elephants sought permission to enter.
The king called out, "I cannot receive anyone now—I am busy with…"
The monkey whispered softly, "Matters of high state…"
"…with matters of high state!" the king repeated proudly.He instructed the guard elephant not to admit anyone.
"Yes, continue," he said to the monkey.
"The crown, my lord," the monkey said gravely. "The crown is our goal. And once the two elephants gain the Crocodile King's trust, it will be within our reach."
"What a brilliant scheme!"
"But we shall never complete our plan," the monkey added, "so long as the Crocodile King is capable of clear thought."
"Does he possess a mind like ours?" asked the Elephant King.
"No, my lord. Your mind is far greater. I only mean that we must avoid interference while carrying out our design."
"Who would interfere with us?"
"The presence of that human I told you about beside the Lord of the Crocodiles will ruin all our plans. It is far better to remove him, so the two elephants we intend to gift the Lord of the Crocodiles may do the tasks we have prepared for them without interference."
"But how do we remove him?"
"We invite the Lord of the Crocodiles to visit us—he and whomever he wishes to bring along. Naturally, we will hint that an apology awaits him. The two elephants will insist that there is much work to be done, and suggest that he send a deputy instead. And that deputy will be the human. The Lord of the Crocodiles will proudly present him, boasting that his kingdom holds such distinguished figures… and once he is here, the human will die."
"Die? And if he does not die?"
"My lord, I pray the meaning is clear: he must die. We simply orchestrate an 'accident' that kills him, then spread word that he died of natural causes."
"But how will anyone believe this?"
"Those who pursue truth and secrets are few—and in our kingdom, they are nonexistent. Everyone else will believe what they see."
"And what will they see?"
"A great funeral, my lord. Displays of grief and sorrow. We receive condolences everywhere. We recite the virtues of the departed and speak of his deeds and lofty sayings. And thus, the truth is buried beneath the weight of mourning."
"By my life! Where did you acquire such a mind?"
"My lord, have I not told you I am a developed being?"
"You are magnificent, counselor. Do you know?"
"Yes, my lord."
"That you and I together can think with one mind—one great, superior mind?"
"Indeed, my lord."
"And that the ideas we conceived together—ideas I allowed you to recite—are glorious ideas?"
"Naturally, my lord."
"And entirely new?"
"Without a doubt, my lord."
"Then continue. Reveal the rest of our thoughts…"
The monkey resumed:
"By eliminating this human, we weaken the crocodiles and their lord—who will stand without a counselor. And Your Majesty will be stronger, with a counselor at your side…"
"Precisely! Then we wage war and crush them."
"No, no, my lord—we must not wage war."
"Not wage war? Then what have we been planning all this time?"
"We unleash others upon them first. Let them drain the crocodiles' strength. When they are on the brink of ruin, Your Majesty will need little effort to finish them."
"And whom shall we unleash?"
"Some fools, my lord. Those who understand nothing of complex schemes—and they are many."
"Such as?"
"The bull."
"The bull?! Can he alone fight the crocodiles? He barely escaped death last time!"
"And therefore, he is the perfect one to fight them."
"I tell you he escaped death, and you tell me he is perfect for battle?"
"My lord, the humiliation he suffered has filled him with rage and a thirst for vengeance. That is the first condition of war."
"You speak madness, counselor. War demands strength and arms!"
"My lord, I said it is the first condition, not the only one. The bull is now overflowing with fury. All we must do is gather the remaining bulls and cows, secure their loyalty to him, and then he will not hesitate to fight the crocodiles to reclaim his honor and avenge himself."
"A cunning idea… very cunning. But…"
"Magnificent, my lord."
"Ah… magnificent indeed."
"And so, my lord, how could we leave him to fight alone—"
The elephant king interrupted:
"But the bull is my friend."
"My lord, we shall not leave him alone. You will work tirelessly, night and day, assembling his supporters and followers."
"Followers from among the elephants?"
"No, my lord—from the bulls and cows. It is their war. As for us, we will appear as allies of the crocodiles."
"But that is not noble conduct."
"My lord… it seems you have forgotten what you learned in school."
"No—I remember well that we must uphold noble morals."
"Do you know what noble morals truly mean, my lord?"
The monkey spoke like a philosopher:
"Morals are of two kinds: noble and vile. Noble morals are to follow whatever path leads you to your goal. Vile morals are to reject those paths—and thus fail to achieve your purpose."
"And who is this Falaban you always quote?"
"Falaban, my lord, is a scholar of the civilized world. His research is vast, his theories bold. Great teachers and philosophers were his students. They consider him the authority of the age, the final word in wisdom. His ideas cannot be opposed—lest kingdoms accuse us of ignorance, narrow-mindedness, and worst of all, accuse us of stagnation."
"No, no—we shall not oppose the sage Falaban. We understand his teachings perfectly, and we shall follow them, so long as they elevate our standing among kingdoms. I am now wholly convinced of your ideas. You always support your counsel with the words of philosophers. Let us begin at once."
"My lord, I did have one thought—though your thought is truth before and after my own."
"Speak, for your thoughts are wise."
"I wished not to burden you with execution of plans. Kings of greatness leave execution to loyal counselors like us. You, my lord, need only receive weekly reports, speaking little—one word or two at most. Kings who speak little command more awe."
"Granted—if it ensures the plan proceeds as intended. But one or two words a week is very little."
"As Your Majesty wills. But great kings speak only 'yes' or 'no.' I shall always present two ideas, so you may approve one or reject the other. And let the answer to any petitioner be 'not approved,' unless the matter reaches you through me. Only then will we be certain it is thoroughly studied before you say 'yes,' for yes binds kings, my lord."
"Yes… agreed."
"My lord, you have just bound yourself to greatness. You will see wonders from me."
The monkey bowed deeply and departed in exaggerated humility. The Elephant King was overjoyed with such a cunning counselor.
The monkey then established a headquarters among high interwoven trees, receiving elephants who came to petition their king but were redirected to him. He granted their requests—and a little more—to win their loyalty.
Then he drafted a message to the Lord of the Crocodiles and summoned the kardan, a bird who had taken delight in living among the elephants.
When the bird arrived, the monkey said:
"I heard His Majesty praise you greatly."
"Truly?"
"He recounted your noble traits and your upright character—so much that I longed to meet you."
"It is a great honor."
"And you surely know His Majesty has appointed me his counselor; no decision is made without my word."
"A wise choice by the king."
"The king requires special agents whose duties remain hidden from all. He will reward them richly. I wanted your guidance in choosing suitable candidates."
"There are many who would serve the king gladly."
"No, no. Not everyone with enthusiasm is fit. Such tasks require special qualities, not easily found. I was thinking… you might be the one most worthy of such generous reward."
"Me?! Would I be fit for such work?"
"Not yet. But the reward is great—very great. And we can teach you and guide you. The rest depends on your dedication."
"What must I do?"
"All I ask of you is to obey me without question, no matter what the task may be. This work demands absolute, unwavering obedience—obedience that knows neither hesitation nor doubt."
"So long as that is all… I can do it," he replied.
"It requires more than that," the monkey continued. "It demands secrecy. Many deeds must be carried out for the king—deeds he cannot perform himself—and his aides must do them quietly, unnoticed by all."
"I understand. And if this is what the work demands… then I am capable of it."
"Blind obedience and secrecy. Do you agree?"
"I agree."
"And the fate of those who hesitate… or reveal secrets… is only one thing. Do you know what it is?"
"No…"
"Death."
When Kurdān heard the word "death," fear crept into his heart and a shiver seized him.The monkey added coldly:
"And the death of your children… and the rest of your family."
Kurdān's fear grew heavier, and the monkey continued:
"But great is the reward for those who work with loyalty and without hesitation. I advise you to agree—for the king praises you often, and I believe you will not refuse the honor of serving in these special assignments. Wait here for a moment."
The monkey entered upon the king and, after offering the customary greetings, said:
"I shall do everything in my power to serve you, and I will begin at once."
"Very well," the king replied.
The monkey then left the king and returned to Kurdān.
"Accept my warmest congratulations," he said.
"For what?" asked Kurdān anxiously.
"I persuaded the king to appoint you. He approved."
"But…" Kurdān began, but the monkey cut him off sharply.
"I will teach you. Fear nothing. Now listen carefully: walk in front of me, back and forth."
Kurdān could not refuse. The monkey rushed him through everything, leaving no moment to think. He walked back and forth, lifted his wings, lowered them, hopped, flew, returned, rose, sat, leapt—performing every command.
Finally, the monkey said:
"You have passed the acceptance test. This is how you must perform the most dangerous tasks—without delay."
"Where is your nest?"
"Up in that tree…"
"Let us go."
When they arrived, the monkey found two small chicks in the nest.
"These are your chicks?"
"Yes."
"They're beautiful," the monkey said as he picked them up, pretending to play with them. Then he leaned close and whispered:
"Your first task is a great service to the King of Elephants. He is in deep conflict with his wife—he hates her terribly and wishes to be rid of her so that he may marry another whom he prefers."
"How?" Kurdān asked, horrified.
"Do not ask questions. You only listen. You have been chosen for this mission. Go to the bandoub tree, bring its leaves, mix them with the queen's feed, and rub them well with your foot so they cannot be noticed."
"But those leaves are deadly poison!"
The monkey shot him a sharp, meaningful look, tightening his grip on the chicks.
"Do as I say… or else."
He waited a moment, then added:
"I will remain here. When the queen dies, come tell me. Let no one see you. Hurry."
The wretched Kurdān flew away, nearly losing his mind at the thought of what he was about to do. But the sight of his helpless chicks in the monkey's hands forced him to obey.
Within two hours he had returned with the poisonous leaves, mixed them into the queen's feed, and waited quietly until she approached. She ate… and within moments collapsed lifeless.
Kurdān rushed back to the monkey, who was still holding his chicks.
"I have completed the task…"
"When you address me," the monkey snapped, "you will say: my lord."
"My lord, I have completed the task."
The monkey released the chicks and stared at him coldly.
"What task?"
"My lord—the one you ordered me to do…"
"Did I order you anything?"
"My lord, did you not instruct me to—"
"Speak properly! My lord!"
"My lord… did you not command me to kill the queen?"
"You killed the queen!? You murdered her!?"
"But my lord—you said—"
"You killed the queen, you criminal!" the monkey shouted, descending the tree in a frenzy. "I am going to the king at once! I will tell him everything—that you killed her without anyone ordering you!"
By then the elephants had already sensed the queen's death. Confusion spread. The king himself came raging, and the elephants gathered from every direction.
Kurdān realized he had been trapped. Yesterday he had been the elephants' beloved friend—now he was doomed.
He chased after the monkey, begging him not to reveal anything. But the monkey pretended righteous fury:
"You criminal! You murderer! Did you kill the queen!?"
Kurdān fell to the ground, kissing the monkey's feet, pleading:
"Do not tell… I will be your obedient servant forever!"
The monkey paused, then said:
"Go home. Do not leave until I send for you."
"Yes, my lord…"
The poor Kurdān returned to his nest, collapsing under the weight of guilt and terror. The monkey had succeeded—through this cruel deception—in enslaving him completely.
And the council that gathered the elephants was vast; they had all come to offer the king condolences for his great loss. The monkey entered, sorrowful, delivering his words of sympathy to the king with remarkable gentleness—words that soothed the king's heart. When he finished offering condolences, he withdrew and headed toward Kardān, saying:
"Pay close attention to what I am about to tell you."
"Yes, sir…"
"Go to the Lord of the Crocodiles and tell him that the King of the Elephants has sent you. Inform him that the bull came to the king claiming that the Lord of the Crocodiles had sent him to spy on the elephants and bring him news, so that the crocodile lord could prepare to wage war against them. Tell him the bull said the Lord of the Crocodiles seeks counsel from the monkey—who always accompanies him in such delicate matters. These words deeply disturbed the Elephant King, for he has long known crocodiles to be good neighbors. He requests that the Lord of the Crocodiles investigate this bull, for the king did not trust his story.
And after that, bring me the reply yourself so that I may present it to the king personally. Do not hand it to anyone but me."
"At your command, sir," Kardān said, and left immediately on his way toward the Lord of the Crocodiles. He felt utterly weak and stripped of will in the monkey's presence, unable to think clearly, surrendering himself to the monkey's guidance.
When Kardān had gone, the monkey left in search of the bull. He found him resting in the shade of a large tree, sadness written on his face—he had just returned from the Elephant King after offering condolences.
The monkey greeted him:
"May your days be filled with ease, my dear friend."
"Welcome—an honored visitor."
"I have been looking for you these past days to visit you. Only the burden of work has delayed me…"
"Bless your steps, and may your rank be elevated. Your arrival brings goodness."
"I expected you to be among us, helping us plan important matters. I have foreseen a great future for you from the moment I first saw you. You possess unique traits—gifts denied to most creatures. Do you know…?"
"What is it?"
"I have spent most of my life studying books—wisdom, politics, ethics, philosophy, literature. I have studied every science concerning living beings, their natures, behaviors, and habits. I have devoted great effort to astronomy and its connection to future events and reading destinies. And, in the midst of all that, I noticed that you possess the exact qualities described by the great sage Lāblādūn in his renowned compendium when he spoke of the awaited leader. His descriptions are precise—astonishingly precise. Do you know…?"
"What?"
"I have traveled the world—its mountains, plains, valleys, forests, rivers, and seas. I have left no corner unexplored. And in all my journeys, I have never found anyone who matches that sage's description as perfectly as you do. Since our first encounter, you have occupied all my thoughts…"
"Is this truly what you believe?" asked the bull, with deep interest and amazement. Sadness melted from his face, replaced by joy and anticipation. He moved his heavy body closer to the monkey, eager not to miss a word. "Do you also know that I loved you from the first moment I met you? I only went to the Lord of the Crocodiles to honor your request. There are those whose sight the heart rejects immediately—but you are different. I felt drawn to you even before seeing you. My heart senses fate before it arrives…"
"Of course. Your heart must have sensed the happiness destined for you in my company."
"Indeed—great happiness, great delight."
The bull shifted closer. The monkey continued:
"Then rejoice, my friend, for a bright future awaits you. Do you know…?"
"What…?"
"Sage Lāblādūn said that the signs of leadership appear most clearly upon the chosen one at sunrise on a Saturday."
"I have found in you all the signs that appear on other days. Today is Thursday. I will come to you after tomorrow—at sunrise on Saturday—to examine the remaining signs. If I find them in you, then the fortune of my arrival will be beyond anything you can imagine. Now, I must leave; much work awaits me…"
"My dear friend, stay with me a bit longer. Your presence lifts my heart, and your words bring me comfort. The tasks can wait…"
But the monkey excused himself and departed. When he disappeared from sight, the bull leapt up in overwhelming joy, running here and there, stamping the ground with his hoof, repeating breathlessly:
"Lāblādūn said so… Lāblādūn said so!"
Happiness overtook him so completely that he did not sleep for the next two nights. Whenever exhaustion pulled him down, he sat to rest—panting, whispering to himself:
"Lāblādūn said this… Lāblādūn said this…"
—
On his way back, the monkey met a massive elephant called Dāghī. The monkey greeted him and said:
"You must have heard that His Majesty the King has appointed me as his special advisor in all matters—and that he takes no decision without consulting me."
"I have heard."
"And the king is considering appointing an heir—someone to take the throne after his death. He has not made his final choice yet. He asked for my help in selecting the most fitting candidate. And, in most cases, he agrees with the opinion I present."
Dāghī straightened up and cleared his throat.
"It would be my greatest honor to serve you—and the king."
"But there's a problem—one that may stand in the way of choosing you."
"What is it?"
"There are two others the king is considering alongside you. I personally would be very pleased to see you named heir—and to work with you. But we must prove that they are unfit for such a noble position, that their flaws make them unworthy."
"Who are these two?"
"Shaghwār and Bārūgh."
"They are absolutely unfit—full of flaws."
"I agree, but many things are hidden from the king. And the only way to reveal their true nature is for their faults to become the talk of all the elephants. Once that happens, the king will choose you alone."
"Then leave this matter to me—it is easy."
"What do you plan to do?"
"I will publicly announce their flaws everywhere!"
"No, no… that is not a wise method."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"You must never confront them yourself. Maintain your noble image."
"Then how do I spread the truth about them?"
"You gather followers—starting with a few, then increasing day by day. They will speak on your behalf in gatherings and clubs. They will recruit more followers, until all fear your influence."
"A good idea…"
"And to make your work successful, keep everything you and your followers do in strict secrecy. Meet them only at night, hidden in the darkness, so no one knows you guide them."
"A marvelous idea…"
"And I will advise you whenever you need me. Keep me informed so I can help you perfect your plans."
"Of course—your wisdom is indispensable."
"I may travel soon on a special mission. Do not, under any circumstance, speak to the king while I'm away. Double your efforts so that when I return, their flaws will already be on every tongue—young and old."
The monkey left him, and Dāghī vowed to work tirelessly, day and night, until the monkey's return.
The monkey then went to repeat these same instructions to Shaghwār and Bārūgh—each privately—making each of them believe he alone was favored by the king's advisor. When the monkey left them, their efforts had already begun.
Then the monkey climbed the tall trees he used as a home. He climbed higher and higher until he reached the top, overlooking the elephants below, the bull among them. His chest swelled with hatred as he gazed upon these creatures. His eyes sparkled with mockery and contempt. He whispered to himself:
"Oh, you foolish, ugly beasts… Now the hour of reckoning has come. What will save you from me? How much of your harm—and the harm of your fathers and grandfathers—have I endured? How often have your tongues lashed me with insults? Tomorrow you will bow under my rule. Your heads belong beneath my feet. You deserve nothing but ruin.
I will shatter your lives. Scatter your herds. Corrupt your morals—those morals that prevent you from submitting to me. Killing you is my most fitting tool for taming you. Tomorrow the son shall rebel against his father; the wife shall defy her husband; the lowly shall challenge the noble. And you are all lowly—you do not deserve life. Tomorrow ignorance will consume you; your senses will fail—you will neither hear nor see.
I will smile at you while behind my smile lurks your doom. I will befriend you while humiliation waits for you. Woe to you—all of you—from the calamity my hands will bring. The hour of vengeance has come."
—
When Saturday arrived, the monkey set out before sunrise toward the bull. The bull greeted him joyfully.
The monkey said:
"Before I examine the remaining signs, let me tell you what I saw in my dream last night."
"What did you see?"
"I saw myself sitting beside you. All the animals—great and small—came before you, one by one. You placed your hand upon each of their heads, and I handed you green stalks which you gave to each of them. When none were left, you rose to your feet—and all the animals sat upon the ground.
Then you said to me: 'Look what they are doing.'And you struck me with your hoof—and I awoke from the blow.
The dawn had already filled the sky. So I came straight to you…"