Sir Harold and the Monkey King, Part I

SIR HAROLD AND THE MONKEY KING

Part 1 of 4

Christopher Stasheff

Harold Shea loved to have friends drop in, but he did like a little warning first, especially if he was going to have to catch them.

He was working late at night in his study, taking a break from his usual toil—that of transcribing interviews with delusional patients into symbolic logic, looking for keys to the universes they were perceiving. For variety, he had started trying to transcribe the Tao Te Ching, The Book of the Way, by the legendary sage Lao Tzu. The book was the foundation of the Chinese religion of Taoism, and Taoist priests had the reputation of being magicians, so Shea was looking for clues to their magical principles—when he heard a sigh behind him.

He glanced up, thinking that perhaps Belphebe had wakened and come out, needing talk—the demands of a newborn left her craving adult conversation—but all he saw was an amorphous, translucent white mass writhing in the dark of the study.

His hair tried to stand on end; he froze for an instant, then reached into the desk drawer and touched his dirk. Then he looked over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't have to trust his safety to its two-hundred year-old design.

The amorphous mass became more and more opaque as it churned, pulling itself into a human form—and Dr. Reed Chalmers stood there, drawn and pale, in a medieval robe.

"Doc!" Shea cried, leaping out of his chair—and virtually caught Chalmers as he sagged. Shea turned, stepped, and lowered him into the desk chair. "Hold on just a minute—I'll get some brandy." He stepped out into the dining room, took a glass and a bottle from the liquor cabinet, poured, and took the snifter back to Chalmers.

Chalmers accepted it with both hands, drinking it off in a single swallow. His color began to return even as he lowered it. "Yes. Much better now. Thank you, Harold."

"Don't mention it," Shea said. "Travel by syllogismobile does have that effect, sometimes." Actually, it never had with him, but it sounded like a good face-saver.

"No, it wasn't really that." Chalmers frowned. "But how did you guess, Harold?"

"Something to do with the medieval robe, probably—and the fact that you didn't bother with the front door. What happened, Doc? Thought you talked us into a ban on inter-universe travel."

"Yes, but that was only for those who already know how. I never thought it would be necessary to tell someone who had never made a journey before."

"Florimel?" Harold stared. "Don't tell me your wife decided to try it on her own!" But his sinking stomach told him the truth; he remembered how Chalmers' wife had seemed relieved to have Reed take a "vacation" to his native universe.

"Well, of course, there was no good reason to deny teaching her how," Chalmers protested. "Unfortunately, she didn't bother learning symbolic logic completely before she tried..."

"And with only a medieval education to back it up, she wouldn't be able to figure out the right referents anyway!" Shea stared in horror. "My lord, Doc! How can you tell where she went?"

"By this." Chalmers drew a parchment out of his robe. "Apparently she didn't keep too tight a hold on it when she travelled—I found it on the living room floor."

"But that means she doesn't know how to get home, either!" Shea snatched the sheet and frowned down at the symbols. "Nothing I can recognize, Doc—oh, a chain here and there, and a paradox-loop or two, but nothing coherent."

"So I feared," Chalmers sighed. "I tried it myself, but the terrain was so unusual, I thought..." His voice trailed off.

"That you'd better come back for reinforcements?" Shea nodded and turned away. "Help yourself to the brandy, Doc. I'll just be a few minutes getting into my travelling outfit—and telling Belphebe."

The travelling outfit was quick and easy—Shea always kept a general, all-purpose tunic and tights handy, along with his sword and quarterstaff—and his revolver, and a wallet filled with hardtack and pemmican. Saying goodbye to Belphebe, though, took a bit longer, especially since he didn't really want to.

He woke her with a feather-light kiss, but she came awake on the instant anyway, like the huntress she was. She smiled up at him with pleasure, then saw his outfit, and her eyes went wide. "Harold! What alarm calls you out?"

A surge of affection moved him, gratitude that she had seen the nature of the situation so quickly, and knew him well enough to know that only an emergency could take him from her and their six-month-old baby. "It's Florimel, dear. She has disappeared, leaving only a sheet full of equations behind."

"Florimel? Attempted the syllogismobile by herself? But Reed must be distraught!"

"Very much so, especially since he just got back from the universe she went to. It was so odd that he decided he needed somebody to back him up."

"Of course you must!" She caught his hand, knowing his misgivings. "Fear not for the babe and myself—we shall be quite well in your absence. Only return safe and sound!"

"I'll do my best," Shea promised, and took her in his arms for a kiss that was the best pledge he could make.

A few minutes later, he came back into the study. "Okay, Doc. Let's go." He opened the desk drawer and took out a box of cartridges, slipping it into his wallet.

"But why the revolver, Harold?" Chalmers frowned. "It won't work, in an alien universe where magic is physics."

"Maybe not—but if we don't know where we're going, we might wind up in a universe where the rules are hybrid, and gunpowder does explode. I brought matches, too. If they don't work, I can always throw them away—but if they do, I'm going to be sore as hell that I didn't bring them. Shall we, Doc?"

"By all means." Chalmers took his hand and held up the sheet of equations. They began to chant the symbolic-logic statements in unison, as the study began to grow dim about them.

Suddenly, there was light.

Light all about them, and grass of an amazingly rich green, covering the slope beneath their feet—a steep hillside that broke out into rocky shelves here and there, and that was adorned with trees and shrubs everywhere.

Everywhere, and every tree bore fruit, every shrub was burdened with blossoms. The air was perfumed, and all the colors were bright.

"Doc," Harold said slowly, "I don't think we're in any universe I've ever seen before."

"Nor I," Chalmers said evenly—but his hands trembled.

Shea knelt to run a hand over the grass. "It's real. It looked so perfect, I thought it might have been a carpet."

Chalmers nodded. "And isn't that a pagoda, over there? Though it's very tiny with distance."

Shea stood up, looked, and nodded. "All the colors are so bright! It's as though the air were super-clear!"

"Perhaps it's just that we've come to a place where the internal combustion engine hasn't been invented," Chalmers offered half-heartedly, "or that we're in the mountains. But do you notice, Harold—no chiaroscuro?"

"Shading?" Shea looked about, realizing that everything was either full-color, or shadow, with nothing in between. "You're right, Doc. In fact, it looks almost... like a..."

"Chinese scroll," Chalmers finished for him. "I think we can assume we've left the Western hemisphere behind—especially since I see we're about to be visited by a band of local fauna."

Shea looked where he pointed, startled, and saw small brown and gray shapes flitting through the trees. Then he heard a whirling, racheting, burbling sound—the noise of a whole tribe of monkeys, shooting toward them.

In an instant, the animals were all about them, hooting and chattering. One large, grizzled old animal called down, "Who are you, strangers, and what do you here, on our Mountain of Flowers and Fruit?"

Shea did a double take—he wasn't used to having the local wildlife speak English. Then he remembered that he probably was not speaking English at all, but the language of this universe, instead. That helped—but not much. He still was not used to talking monkeys.

Chalmers recovered first. "We are travelers..." Then he ran out of gas, and Shea snapped out of his stupefaction in time to take up where he'd left off.

"We're looking for a friend of ours," Shea called back. "Have you seen her, maybe? A pretty, slender woman—no, Doc, let me do the describing, you can't be objective! She would have appeared all of a sudden, the way we did!"

"Aye, such a one did appear yesterday, and we told her what we will tell you—that you trespass in the land of the Monkey King, and he will be wroth if he finds you here! She, at least, had the good sense to turn her footsteps down the slope. You had best do likewise, before our king comes!"

"Foolish, foolish people!" a younger monkey chattered. "You dare to trespass on his lands, believing that he has been imprisoned by Buddha!"

"Be still!" the older monkey snapped.

"Wherefore? Since our lord has just been released from his jail, after five hundred years of waiting! Surely the foolish mortals should flee, and not trouble us to beat them away."

"Beat?" Chalmers cried, dismayed, but Shea assured him, "They said Florimel had the good sense to go on her own, Doc. But we need a little background information, and we're in a good situation to get it." Then, back to the monkeys, "You mentioned Buddha. Is this China?"

"China? What is that? You are on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, behind the great Water Curtain, in Zhung-Guo—the Middle Kingdom!"

"Middle Earth? The center of all the universes?"

"What is a universe? Foolish mortal, Zhung-Guo is the Land Between the Four Seas, the country at the center of the world, which must therefore be an example and a source of governance to all other countries!"

Yes, that was China—at least, as seen by the Chinese. "Why was your king imprisoned?"

"Buddha clapped him in jail for five hundred years, to punish him for his mischief!" The monkey bared his teeth. "How unjust is this! As well punish a bird for flying, or a dog for barking!"

"I suspect it depends on the magnitude of the mischief..."

A loud chattering went up at the fringe of the monkey band, and several of the little apes turned, then pointed to the sky.

"Yonder he comes!" The grizzled monkey pointed, too. "Flee, foolish barbarians! Or you will suffer greatly, for trespassing in the domain of the Monkey King!"

"What do you think, Doc?" Shea muttered.

"They may speak wisely," Chalmers answered, "but I confess my curiosity has the better of me. Besides, we couldn't be off this hillside by the time he arrived."

That was true enough. The monkeys were pointing at a little cloud that was growing larger and larger. As it came closer, they could see a speck on top of it, a speck that rapidly grew into the form of a gray monkey, a little larger than most, holding a two-foot stick.

Shea stared. "It's just mist! How does he keep from falling through?"

"Magic," Chalmers said tersely. "I think I'd better work up a few spells."

The cloud slanted downwards, diving toward them. As it touched down, the monkeys set up a glad chattering: "Monkey! Monkey! Our Monkey King!"

Monkey jumped off his cloud with a grin, flourishing his staff in triumph—until he saw the two humans. Then the grin disappeared, and the staff was flourishing for an entirely different reason.

He ran at Shea and Chalmers with a howl. Shea did not want to hurt the little guy, so he did not pull out his sword, just held out his staff to block…

Monkey's two-foot cudgel cracked through Shea's staff as though it had been a spaghetti noodle.

Shea leaped back, staring at the two half-staves in his hands, then lifted them to block. Monkey howled and swung, and his staff grew even as it whirled, extending to six feet, with a dull sheen. Shea saw it coming and tried to roll with it, but it cracked into his shoulder anyway. He fell, pain flaring through his joint—but rolled up right next to Monkey and, still not wanting to really hurt him, slapped at the little creature's head as he stood up.

Pain shot through his whole hand.

"Yeow!" he yelled, leaping back. "What're you made of—granite?"

"Exactly!" Monkey snapped, and swung again.

This time Shea just dodged. With his left shoulder throbbing and his right hand a web of agony, he could not do much of anything else. But he did notice that behind Monkey, Chalmers was on his knees, frantically jabbing short sticks into the ground. That gave Shea hope—if he could just stay away from Small and Deadly long enough, maybe Doc could get him out of this.

But staying away from Monkey was easier said than done. Leaping, swinging from tree branches, bounding down at Shea, bounding up, and always howling, howling, the little monster swung again and again with that lethal staff. Shea dodged and dodged, but he was beginning to tire, and the staff tagged him on the shin, on the hip, and left burning pain wherever it touched.

Then suddenly, iron bars seemed to fall out of the sky and land straight up. An iron roof slammed down on top of them, and Shea fell, rolling on an iron floor.

Monkey hit the bars of the cage with a horrendous scream, trying to reach through at Shea. When he found he could not, he leaped back and assaulted the cage with a dozen blows. Shea shrank into a little ball in the center as bars bent and the roof dented—but they held. Finally, the Monkey King ran out of gas and leaned on his staff, glaring at Shea through the bars and panting. Then he began to scream. "Round-eyed barbarian! Foul dungheap! Bag of offal!" He went on like that for a little while.

Shea waited it out, remembering Cyrano's comeback. When the little blighter finally shut up, he said, "You are? Well, I'm Harold Shea." He held out a hand.

Monkey nearly came through the bars, screaming again. "Foul, mannerless thief! I am the Monkey King, as you well know, and I shall tear this cage apart and rip you limb from limb!"

At a guess, he had not had a good day. Shea tried to remember that he was a psychologist and asked, "Why?"

Monkey stared, at a loss for a few seconds. Then he snapped: "Because you have trespassed on my mountain, and insulted me to boot!"

Shea did not feel it was tactful to point out that the only insults Monkey had received were the ones he had given, coming back at him. "I'm sorry about that—but we were looking for a friend of ours, who became lost."

Monkey frowned. "Why would you think he was on my mountain?"

"She, actually—and we just followed her trail, in a manner of speaking."

"A magical trail?" Monkey looked sharply at him. "You are a sorcerer, then."

"Just a general all-purpose magician."

"What is the woman to you?"

"My wife," Chalmers said behind him.

Monkey spun about, his cudgel coming up, but he only glowered at the older man and asked: "What was her appearance?"

"About this tall." Chalmers held up his hand. "Slender, with brown hair."

"And pale skin, and round eyes, like yourself?" Monkey nodded. "I came upon her on my way here."

"Really?" Chalmers leaped on it. "Where was she going?"

"Nowhere; she was beset by bandits. I was angry at bandits, for six of them had just tried to kill Tripitaka, the monk whom Buddha bade me accompany, and I slew them for it. Then the foolish bonze had the audacity to rebuke me! Rebuke me! For saving his life!"

Chalmers was in an agony of impatience to learn about Florimel, but Shea realized he was going to have to bring Monkey back to the topic gradually. "Maybe he had a good reason."

"Good reason! No, nothing more than that I could have spared those outlaws, could have disabled them as easily as slaying them! As though you should spare the life of someone who attacks you, simply because it is not necessary to kill him!"

"That does make sense," Shea said, "provided you think human life is something worthwhile in its own right."

Monkey's teeth writhed back, jeering. "I should expect your kind to think so."

"Well, yes, we do have a certain vested interest in human life. But maybe that's why Buddha assigned you to this monk."

Monkey frowned. "Why, how is that?"

"To learn Buddha's morality." Shea realized that he must be crazy, talking about Buddha as though the sage were still alive, and were something more than a myth—but maybe he was, in this universe. After all, his first trip by syllogismobile had taken him to a universe where the Norse gods were real. Anyway, he had to talk to Monkey on the beast's own terms. "Didn't he say anything about why you were supposed to go with the monk?"

Monkey glowered. "Something, aye."

"Was it Buddha who turned you into stone, too?" Mind you, Shea did not believe for an instant that something so alive as Monkey could really be made out of stone...

...or maybe he could. After all, each universe had its own physics, its own principles. Why could not a living creature be made of stone? Maybe, to Monkey, Shea seemed odd, being made of soft tissue.

"Nay," Monkey said. "I was born so—if 'born' is the word for it."

" 'Hatched,' maybe?"

Monkey stared. "How did you know?"

Now Shea stared. "You don't mean you came out of an egg!"

"Aye." Monkey sat down on his heels, grinning. "When the world was made, O Foolish Barbarian, there was made with it a huge egg of stone. For eons it stood, alone and waiting; then finally, when men had appeared upon the Earth, that egg broke open, and out tumbled myself—the Stone Monkey."

Shea tried to keep the look of disbelief off his face. After all, if monkeys could talk here, why couldn't one have hatched out of a stone egg? "How did you become king of the monkeys?"

"Shortly after I wakened, a band of them came tumbling along, playing as they went. They told me I was one of them, and brought me to look in a still pool. I saw that I was a monkey, too, and went with them a while—but I learned how sore beset they were, by tiger and by wolf, and began to wonder how to make them safe. Then, one day, we came to play near a Water Curtain..."

"A water curtain?"

"A sheet of water that fell from a great height, fool! I wondered what lay behind that veil, and plucked up my courage to leap through it. I find myself here, on this mountain of eternal spring, then leaped back through the veil, to find them mourning me. They rejoiced to see me still alive, and followed me through the Water Curtain—with some trepidation, it must be admitted, but with willingness to follow. When they saw how rich and safe a place I had provided for them, they made me their king."

"Sounds great." Shea frowned. "But so far, I don't see anything Buddha should have punished you for."

"Nay. That came later, after some years, when I had begun to chafe at my life here, and to find it growing tedious. I wished to learn more of the world, and I wished to learn how to keep my monkeys safe from the occasional bear that stumbled through the Curtain. I heard of a sage in the south, the Patriarch Subodhi, who could teach me magic, so I departed from my little monkeys and went to him."

"Studying magic?" Shea frowned. "I begin to see possibilities for mischief."

"I assure you, I was the best-mannered of monkeys! The Patriarch took me as his disciple, and I studied as hard as, or harder than, any of the others. At last I came to so much knowledge of the Way of Virtue that he gave me a name-in-religion—I am the disciple Aware-of-Vacuity."

"Vacuity?" Shea frowned. "Why is it important to become aware of emptiness?"

"Because until you know that you are empty, you cannot begin to be filled. But I, having reached this stage, desired to demonstrate for my fellow disciples how much I had learned—so I displayed all the marvels that I could now work, as a result of the Patriarch's teaching."

A show-off, Shea realized. "I take it the Patriarch didn't like that too much?"

"Nay, he cast me out from his presence." Monkey grinned again. "Why should I care? I had learned the magic I sought. I came back to my mountains, and found my little monkeys sorely beset. I chased away the wild beasts and taught them Mock Combat, so that they would be able to practice Real Combat, if it ever became necessary—as it has, many times since."

"I take it you were planning to go on your travels again."

"Aye, for it is the way of monkeys to become easily bored. I flew to beset the Dragon of the Southern Ocean, defeated him, and exacted tribute from him... Monkey brandished his cudgel. "...this iron staff, that can grow amazingly when I wish it."

"Correct me if I am wrong," Chalmers said slowly, trying to hide his impatience, "but I thought dragons were heavenly creatures, in Chi... in this country."

"They are." Monkey's grin grew savage. "The Jade Emperor of Heaven therefore invited me to take a place in his realm, so that I would cease to bedevil his subjects."

"The direct route to heaven?" Shea stared. "And you didn't stay?"

"Nay, for I found that the 'place' he had for me was that of a groom in the Heavenly Stables! In revenge, I invaded the workroom of Lao-Tzu, the founder of the Way, and stole from him a flask of the Elixir of Life. It was for this that Buddha imprisoned me—but even He had to make my jail the top of a mountain! There He bade me dwell for five long centuries, until a monk should come who could teach me patience and humility. Now that monk has appeared—a prince who has forsworn all the vanities of this world, and who has been sent by the Emperor of Tang to go to India, and bring back three baskets of Buddhist scrolls. For this he has taken the name Tripitaka,' which means, O Ignorant Barbarian, 'Three Baskets.' And he has the gall to chastise me for having saved his life!" Monkey leaped to his feet again, reminded of his grievance. "I screamed imprecations at him for his ingratitude; I rushed off in anger. What need I with such a fool for a master? No, I have come back to my Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, and here I shall stay, whether Buddha wills it or not!" But there was a look of trepidation in his eyes as he said it.

Shea did not want that club to start whirling again—but he did want to be able to get out of that cage without becoming the Target for Today. "Sounds as though he was trying to teach you what Buddha wanted."

"What?" Monkey stared at him.

Shea shrugged. "If Buddha told you to become this monk's disciple, he must have wanted you to learn whatever he had to teach."

"To let murdering bandits live!?! How could this be holy?"

"Sometimes you just have to take it on faith," Shea explained. "We have an archetypal story about that, back where I come from—about a man who is famous for patience, but who really ought to be famous for holding on to his ideals."

"Ideals?" Monkey scowled at him. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Job." Shea settled himself for a long session. "His name was Job, and he was a very religious man who had everything he could want—a beautiful, loving wife, well-mannered children, a fine house, and lots of money. But a, um, demon, tried to tell the, uh, King of Heaven, that the only reason he was religious, was because he had everything he wanted. Take all of that away, the demon said, and Job would lose his faith and curse the King."

"Surely the Jade Emperor would not listen to such foolish speech!" Monkey frowned. "Or is it so foolish?"

"That's what the demon said—and the King of Heaven figured it was necessary to prove that it was foolish. So He gave the demon permission to take away everything that Job held dear—house, money, children, wife. One by one, the demon did just that. First the children were killed by accidents and disease..."

"Why, what goodness can there be in letting children die?" Monkey demanded.

"Presumably, they went straight to Heaven." Shea shrugged away the objection. "Anyway, it's just a story, to make a concept clear. Then a depression hit, and Job lost all his money. A fire burned down his house. Still, all he would do was to cry out to God to tell him what he had done to deserve all this. Finally, his wife began to despise him, because not only hadn't he kept all these things from happening, he wasn't even complaining about the King of Heaven being cruel."

"So she left him."

"Seen it happen before, have you? Yes, she left him, but Job still wouldn't cry out against the King of Heaven—and the demon acknowledged defeat. He had to admit that human ideals have something more to them than just reward and punishment."

"But what of this Job? Did he learn why he had been so accursed?"

"He didn't need to; the King of Heaven just sent an angel to tell him that sometimes He does things for reasons that people don't understand."

"And that was enough for Job?" Monkey stared.

"That was enough," Shea confirmed. "Once he was reassured that the King of Heaven was there, he had faith that there was a reason. All he really needed was to be reassured."

Monkey frowned at him, then bowed his head so that his chin rested on his chest, and was silent. Chalmers fidgeted in an agony of impatience, but kept his peace.

Finally, Monkey looked up. "There is merit in what you say—and I, who know personally that Buddha does exist, am a blind fool to doubt Him, am I not?"

"There is that possibility," Shea agreed.

Monkey gazed at him, brooding.

Then, suddenly, he leaped to his feet, slapping his thigh. "Come! I will return to the monk; I shall make my apologies. Perhaps, in time, he will convince me of the merits of humility. I doubt there are any, but I will give him his chance to teach me. Let us go!" He whirled about and struck the collection of twigs with his staff; the result was instant toothpicks, and the iron cage disappeared from around Shea.

Chalmers stared, horrified.

So did Shea, feeling suddenly very vulnerable. "You could have done that any time!"

"Why, so I could have," Monkey agreed, "but I was too angry to think of it. Let us go!" He beckoned, and suddenly a cloud swooped down from a clear blue sky.

"Wait a minute, now!" Shea backed away. "What do you mean, we?"

"Why, the two of you as well!" Monkey gestured, and the cloud shot in against Shea's legs, and Chalmers'. They both yelped with surprise as they tumbled onto its surface. Monkey grinned and leaped aboard. "It is you who have inspired me—so you must come to see the fulfillment of your plan!" He looked back over his shoulder, and his grin turned menacing. "If it ends in disaster, so shall you."

"But my wife!" Chalmers cried. "What happened to Florimel?"

"Oh, the barbarian woman?" Monkey shrugged. "I sent her further on her travels. This world was not the one she had intended to visit, so I bade her tell me of the one she sought—a world ruled by a queen without a king—and sent her there. But enough! Come now, away!"

Chalmers moaned.

TO BE CONTINUED…