The Emperor of Portugallia

DEPOSED

Long before his marriage to Anna Ericsdotter of Falla, Lars

Gunnarson happened one day to be present at an auction sale.

The parties who held the auction were poor folk who probably had no tempting wares to offer the bargain seekers, for the bidding had been slow, and the sales poor. They had a right to expect better results, with Jöns of Kisterud as auctioneer. Jöns was such a capital funmaker that people used to attend all auctions at which he officiated just for the pleasure of listening to him. Although he got off all his usual quips and jokes, he could not seem to infuse any life into the bidders on this occasion. At last, not knowing what else he could do, he put down his hammer saying he was too hoarse to do any more crying.

"The senator will have to get some one else to offer the wares," he told Carl Carlson of Stovik, who stood sponsor for the auction. "I've shouted myself hoarse at these stone images standing around me, and will have to go home and keep my mouth shut for a few weeks, till I can get back my voice."

It was a serious matter for the senator to be left without a crier, when most of the lots were still unsold; so he tried to persuade Jöns to continue. But it was plain that Jöns could not afford to hurt his professional standing by holding a poor auction, and therefore he became so hoarse all at once that he could not even speak in a whisper. He only wheezed.

"Perhaps there is some one here who will cry out the wares for a moment, while Jöns is resting?" said the senator, looking out over the crowd without much hope of finding a helper.

Then Lars Gunnarson pushed his way forward and said he was willing to try. Carl Carslon only laughed at Lars, who at that time looked like a mere stripling, and told him he did not want a small boy who had not even been confirmed. Whereupon Lars promptly informed Carl Carlson that he had not only been confirmed but had also performed military service. He begged so eagerly to be allowed to wield the hammer that the senator finally gave way to him.

"We may as well let you try your hand at it for a while," he said.

"I dare say it can't go any worse than it has gone so far."

Lars promptly stepped into Jöns's place. He took up an old butter tub to offer it – hesitated and just stood there looking at it, turning the tub up and down, tapping on its bottom and sides. Apparently surprised not to find any flaws in it, he presently offered the lot in a reluctant tone of voice, as if distressed at having to sell so valuable an article. For his part, he would rather that no bids be made, he said. It would be lucky for the owner if no one discovered what a precious butter tub this was, for then he could keep it.

And now, when bid followed bid, everybody noticed how disappointed Lars looked. It was all very well so long as the bids were so low as to be beneath his notice; but when they began to mount higher and higher, his face became distorted from chagrin. He seemed to be making a great sacrifice when he finally decided to knock down the sour old butter tub.

After that he turned his attention to the water buckets, the cowls, and washtubs. Lars Gunnarson seemed somewhat less reluctant when it came to disposing of the older ones, which he sold without indulging in overmuch sighing; but the newer lots he did not want to offer at all. "They are far too good to give away," he remarked to the owner. "They've been used so little that you could easily sell them for new at the fair."

The auction hunters had no notion as to why they kept shouting more and more eagerly. Lars Gunnarson showed much distress for every fresh bid; it could never have been to please him they were bidding. Somehow they had come to regard the things he offered as of real worth. It suddenly occurred to them that one thing or another was needed at home and here were veritable bargains, which they were not buying now just for the fun of it, as had been the case when Jöns of Kisterud did the auctioning.

After this master stroke Lars Gunnarson was in great demand at all auctions. There was never any merriment at the sales after he had begun to wield the hammer; but he had the faculty of making folks long to get possession of a lot of old junk and inducing a couple of bigwigs to bid against each other on things they had no earthly use for, simply to show that money was no object to them. And he managed to dispose of everything at all auctions at which he served.

Once only did it seem to go badly for Lars, and that was at Sven Österby's, at Bergvik. There was a fine big house, with all its furnishings up for sale. Many people had assembled, and though late in the autumn the weather was so mild that the auction could be held out of doors; yet the sales were almost negligible. Lars could not make the people take any interest in the wares, or get them to bid. It looked as though it would go no better for him than it had gone for Jöns of Kisterud the day Lars had to take up the hammer to help him out.

Lars Gunnarson, however, had no desire to turn his work over to another. He tried instead to find out what it was that seemed to be distracting the attention of the people and keeping them from making purchases. Nor was he long getting at the cause of it.

Lars had mounted a table, that every one might see what he had to offer, and from this point of vantage he soon discovered that the newly created emperor, who lived in the little hut close to Falla and had been a day labourer all his life, moved about in the crowd. Lars saw him bowing and smiling to right and left, and letting people examine his stars and his stick, and, at every turn, he had a long line of youngsters at his heels. Nor were older folks above bandying words with him. No wonder the auction went badly, with a grand monarch like him there to draw every one's attention to himself!

At first Lars went right on with his auctioneering, but he kept an eye on Jan of Ruffluck until the later had made his way to the front. There was no fear of Johannes of Portugallia remaining in the background! He shook hands with everybody and spoke a few pleasant words to each and all, at the same time pushing ahead until he had reached the very centre of the ring.

But the moment Jan was there Lars Gunnarsom jumped down from the table, rushed up to him, snatched his imperial cap and stick and was back in his place before Jan had time to think of offering resistance.

Then Jan cried out and tried to climb up onto the table to get back the stolen heirlooms, but immediately Lars raised the stick to him and forced him back. At that there was a murmur of disapproval from the crowd, which, however, had no effect upon Lars.

"I see that you are surprised at my action," he shouted in his loud auctioneering voice, which could be heard all over the yard. "But this cap and this stick belong to us Falla folk. They were bequeathed to my father-in-law, Eric Ersa, by the old master of Falla, he who ran the farm before Eric took it over. These things have always been treasured in the family, and I can't tolerate having a lunatic parade around in them."

Jan had suddenly recovered his composure and while Lars was speaking, he stood with his arms crossed on his chest a look in his face of sublime indifference to Lars's talk. As soon as Lars subsided, Jan, with a gesture of command, turned to the crowd, and said very quietly:

"Now, my good Courtiers, you must see that I get back my property."

Not a solitary person made a move to help him, but there were some who laughed. Now they had all gone over to Lars's side. There was just one individual who seemed to feel sorry for Jan. A woman cried out to the auctioneer:

"Ah, Lars, let him keep his royal trumpery! The cap and stick are of no use to you."

"I'll give him one of my own caps, when I get home," returned Lars. "But I'll be hanged if I let him go about any longer with these heirlooms, making of them a target for jests!"

This was followed by loud laughs from the crowd, Jan was so dumfounded that all he could do was to stand still and look at the people. He glanced from one to another, unable to get over his amazement. Dear, dear! Was there no one among all those who had honoured and applauded him who would help him now, in his hour of need? The people stood there, unmoved. He saw then that he meant nothing to them and that they would not lift a finger for him. He became so frightened that all his imperial greatness fell from him, and he was like a little child that is ready to cry because its playthings have been taken away.

Lars Gunnarson turned to the huge pile of wares stacked beside him, prepared to go on with the auction. Then Jan attempted to do something himself. Wailing and protesting, he went up to the table where Lars stood, quickly bent down and tried to overturn it. But Lars was too alert for him; with a swing of the imperial stick, he dealt Jan a blow across his back that sent him reeling.

"No you don't!" cried he. "I'll keep these articles for the present. You've wasted enough time already on this emperor nonsense. Now you'd better go straight home and take to your digging again."

Jan did not appear to be specially anxious to obey; whereupon Lars again raised the stick, and nothing more was needed to make Emperor Johannes of Portugallia turn and flee.

No one made a move to follow him or offered him a word of sympathy. No one called to him to come back. Indeed folks only laughed when they saw how pitilessly and unceremoniously he had been stripped of all his grandeur.

But this did not suit Lars, either. He wanted to have it as solemn at his auctions as at a church service.

"I think it's better to talk sense to Jan than to laugh at him," he said, reprovingly. "There are many who encourage him in his foolishness and who even call him Emperor. But that is hardly the right way to treat him. It would be far better to make him understand who and what he is, even though he doesn't like it. I have been his employer for some little time, therefore it is my bounden duty to see that he goes back to his work; otherwise he'll soon be a charge on the parish."

After that Lars held a good auction, with close and high bids. The satisfaction which he now felt was not lessened when on his homecoming the next day, he learned that Jan of Ruffluck had again put on his working clothes, and gone back to his digging.

"We must never remind him of his madness," Lars Gunnarson warned his people, "then perhaps his reason will be spared to him. Anyhow, he has never had more than he needs."

THE CATECHETICAL MEETING

Lars Gunnarson was decidedly pleased with himself for having taken the cap and stick away from Jan; it looked as if he had at the same time relieved the peasant of his mania.

A fortnight after the auction at Bergvik a catechetical meeting was held at Falla. People had gathered there from the whole district round about Dove Lake, the Ruffluck folk being among them. There was nothing in Jan's manner or bearing now that would lead one to think he was not in his right mind.

All the benches and chairs in the house had been moved into the large room on the ground floor and arranged in close rows, and there sat every one who was to be catechized, including Jan; for to-day he had not pushed his way up to a better seat than he was entitled to. Lars kept his eyes on Jan. He had to admit to himself that the man's insanity had apparently been checked. Jan behaved now like any rational being; he was very quiet and all who greeted him received only a stiff nod in response, which may have been due to a desire on his part not to disturb the spirit of the meeting.

The regular meeting was preceded by a roll call, and when the pastor called out "Jan Anderson of Ruffluck Croft," the latter answered "here" without the slightest hesitation – as if Emperor Johannes of Portugallia had never existed.

The clergyman sat at a table at the far end of the room, with the big church registry in front of him. Beside him sat Lars Gunnarson, enlightening him as to who had moved away from the district within the year, and who had married.

Jan having answered all questions correctly and promptly, the pastor turned to Lars and put a query to him in a low tone of voice.

"It was not as serious as it appeared," said Lars. "I took it out of him. He works at Falla every day now, as he has always done."

Lars had not thought to lower his voice, as had the pastor. Every one knew of whom he was speaking and many glanced anxiously at Jan, who sat there as calm as though he had not heard a word.

Later, when the catechizing was well on, the pastor happened to ask a trembling youth whose knowledge of the Scriptures was to be tested, to repeat the Fourth Commandment.

It was not wholly by chance the pastor had chosen this commandment as his text for that evening. When seated thus in a comfortable old farmhouse, with its olden-time furniture, and much else that plainly bespoke a state of prosperity, he always felt moved to impress upon his hearers how well those prosper who hold together from generation to generation, who let their elders govern as long as they are able to do so, and who honour and cherish them throughout the remaining years of their lives.

He had just begun to unfold the rich promises which God has made to those who honour father and mother, when Jan of Ruffluck arose.

"There is some one standing outside the door who is afraid to come in," said Jan.

"Go see what the matter is, Börje," said the pastor. "You're nearest the door."

Börje rose at once, opened the door, and glanced up and down the entry.

"There's nobody out there," he replied. "Jan must have heard wrongly."

After this interruption the pastor proceeded to explain to his listeners that this commandment was not so much of a command as it was good counsel, which should be strictly followed if one wished to succeed in life. He was himself only a youth, but this much he had already observed: lack of respect toward parents and disobedience were at the bottom of many of life's misfortunes.

While the pastor was speaking Jan time and again turned his head toward the door and he motioned to Katrina, who was sitting on the last bench and could more easily get to the door than he could, to go open it.

Katrina kept her seat as long as she dared; but being a bit fearful of crossing Jan these days, she finally obeyed him. When she had got the door open, she, like Börje, saw no one in the entry. She shook her head at Jan and went back to her seat.

The pastor had not allowed himself to be disconcerted by Katrina's movements. To the great joy of all the young people, he had almost ceased putting questions and was voicing some of the beautiful thoughts that kept coming into his mind.

"Think how wisely and well things are ordered for the dear old people whom we have with us in our homes!" he said. "Is it not a blessing that we may be a stay and comfort to those who cared for us when we were helpless, to make life easy for those who perhaps have suffered hunger themselves that we might be fed? It is an honour for a young couple to have at the fireside an old father or mother, happy and content – "

When the pastor said that a smothered sob was heard from a corner of the room. Lars Gunnarson, who had been sitting with head devoutly bowed, arose at once. Crossing the floor on tiptoes, so as not to disturb the meeting, he went over to his mother-in-law, placed his arm around her, and led her up to the table. Seating her in his own chair, he stationed himself behind it and looked down at her with an air of solicitude; then he beckoned to his wife to come and stand beside him. Every one understood of course that Lars wanted them to think that in this home all was as the pastor had said it should be.

The minister looked pleased as he glanced up at the old mother and her children. The only thing that affected him a little unpleasantly was that the old woman wept all the while. He had never before succeeded in calling forth such deep emotion in any of his parishioners.

"It is not difficult to keep the Fourth Commandment when we are young and still under the rule of our parents," the pastor continued; "but the real test comes later, when we are grown and think ourselves quite as wise – "

Here the pastor was again interrupted. Jan had just risen and gone to the door himself. He seemed to have better luck than had Börje or Katrina: for he was heard to say "Go'-day" to somebody out in the entry.

Now every one turned to see who it was that had been standing outside all the evening, afraid to come in. They could hear Jan urging and imploring. Evidently the person wished to be excused, for presently Jan pulled the door to and stepped back into the room, alone. He did not return to his seat, but threaded his way up to the table.

"Well, Jan," said the pastor, somewhat impatient, "may we hear now who it is that has been disturbing us the whole evening?"

"It was the old master of Falla who stood out there," Jan replied, not in the least astonished or excited over what he had to impart. "He wouldn't come in, but he bade me tell Lars from him to beware the first Sunday after Midsummer Day."

At first not many understood what lay back of Jan's words. Those who sat in the last rows had not heard distinctly, but they inferred from the startled look on the pastor's face that Jan must have said something dreadful. They all sprang up and began to crowd nearer the table, asking to right and left who on earth he could have been talking to.

"But Jan!" said the pastor in a firm tone, "do you know what you are saying?"

"I do indeed," returned Jan with an emphatic nod. "As soon as he had given me the message for his son-in-law he went away. 'Tell him,' he said, 'that I wish him no ill for letting me lie in the snow in my agony and not coming to my aid in time; but the Fourth Commandment is a strict one. Tell him from me he'd better repent and confess. He will have until the Sunday after Midsummer to do it in.'"

Jan spoke so rationally and delivered his strange message with such sincerity that both the pastor and the others firmly believed at first that Eric of Falla had actually stood outside the door of his old home and talked with Jan. And naturally they all turned their eyes toward Lars Gunnarson to see what effect Jan's words had had on him.

Lars only laughed. "I thought Jan sane," he said, "or I shouldn't have let him come to the meeting. The pastor will have to pardon the interruption. It is the madness breaking out again."

"Why of course!" said the pastor, relieved. For he had been on the point of believing he had come upon something supernatural. It was well, he thought, that this was only the fancy of a lunatic.

"You see, Pastor," Lars went on explaining, "Jan has no great love for me, and it's plain now he hasn't the wit to conceal it. I must confess that in a sense I'm to blame for his daughter having to go away to earn money. It's this he holds against me."

The parson, a little surprised at Lars's eager tone, gave him a

searching glance. Lars did not meet that gaze, but looked away.

Perceiving his mistake, he tried to look the parson in the face.

Somehow he couldn't – so turned away, with an oath.

"Lars Gunnarson!" exclaimed the pastor in astonishment. "What has come over you?"

Lars immediately pulled himself together.

"Can't I be rid of this lunatic?" he said, as though Jan were the one he had sworn at. "Here stand the pastor and all my neighbours regarding me as a murderer only because a madman happens to hold a grudge against me! I tell you he wants to get back at me on account of his daughter. How could I know that she would leave home and go wrong simply because I wanted what was due me. Is there no one here who will take charge of Jan," he asked, "so that the rest of us may enjoy the service in peace?"

The pastor sat stroking his forehead. Lars's remarks troubled him; but he could not reprimand him when he had no positive proof that the man had committed a wrong. He looked around for the old mistress of Falla; but she had slipped away. Then he glanced out over the gathering, and from that quarter he got no help. He was confident that all in the room knew whether or not Lars was guilty, yet, when he turned to them, their faces looked quite blank. Meantime Katrina had come forward and taken Jan by the arm, and the two of them were then moving toward the door. Anyhow, the pastor had no desire to question a crazy man.

"I think this will do for to-night," he said quietly. "We will bring the meeting to a close." He made a short prayer, which was followed by a hymn. Whereupon the people went their ways.

The pastor was the last to leave. While Lars was seeing him to the gate he spoke quite voluntarily of that which had just taken place.

"Did you mark, Pastor, it was the Sunday after Midsummer Day I was to be on my guard?" he said. "That just shows it was the girl Jan had in mind. It was the Sunday after Midsummer of last year that I was over at Jan's place to have an understanding with him about the hut."

All these explanations only distressed the pastor the more. Of a sudden he put his hand on Lars's shoulder and tried to read his face.

"I'm not your judge, Lars Gunnarson," he said in warm, reassuring tones, "but if you have something on your conscience, you can come to me. I shall look for you every day. Only don't put it off too long!"