The bespectacled man, Fig by name, is locked in conversation with the captain of your merry band. You gather Fig has some stewardly function, and is making a determination how to dispense with Ruffino's varied gifts; including you, the talented scamp. Your heart quickens.
It's taking them an awfully long time to converse while you're perched on your stack of cheeses. You can tell Brute is finding the waiting tedious as well. Over your shoulder you hear the beast rattling and scraping the bars of its cage with renewed ardor.
A sudden clatter makes you turn—only to discover Brute was busier than you'd realized. The hatch on the ape's cage is swung wide, and the jungle beast is loose in your cart.
It means to be loose on His Majesty's grounds, judging by its wide eyes and twitching nose. If it leaps away, woe betide the footmen dispatched to secure it—and woe to the beast if they elect to stop it at spearpoint.