Book: The Emperor of Portugalia

S >> Selma Lagerlof >> The Emperor of Portugalia




In the beginning she had thought that the one for whom she waited
would be found immediately the dragging was begun. But such was not
the case. Day after day a couple of patient old fishermen worked
with grappling hooks and dragnets, without finding a trace of the
body.

There were said to be two deep holes at the bottom of the lake,
close to the Borg pier, and some folks thought Jan had gone down
into one of them. Others maintained there was a strong under-tow
here at the point which ran farther in, toward Big Church Inlet,
and that he had been carried over there. Then Glory Goldie had the
draglines lengthened, so that they would reach down to the lowest
depths of the lake, and she ordered every foot of Big Church Inlet
dragged; yet she did not succeed in bringing her father back into
the light of day.

On the morning following the tragic end of her father Glory Goldie
ordered a coffin made. When it was ready she had it brought down to
the pier, that she might lay the dead man in it the moment he was
found. Night and day it had to stand out there. She would not even
have it put into the freight shed. The guard locked the shed
whenever he left the pier, and the coffin had to be at hand always
so that Jan would not be compelled to wait for it.

The old Emperor used to have kind friends around him at the pier,
to enliven his long waiting hours. But Glory Goldie nearly always
tramped there alone. She spoke to no one, and folks were glad to
leave her in peace, for they felt that there was something uncanny
about her which had been the cause of her father's death.

In December navigation closed. Then Glory Goldie had the pier all
to herself. No one disturbed her. The fishermen who were conducting
the search on the lake wanted to quit now. But that put Glory
Goldie in despair. She felt that her only hope of salvation lay in
the finding of her father. She told the men they must go on with
the search while the lake was still unfrozen, that they must search
for him down by Nygard Point; by Storvik Point--they must search
the length and breadth of all Lake Loeven.

For each day that passed Glory Goldie became more desperately
determined to find the body. She had taken lodgings in a cotter's
but at Borg. In the beginning she remained indoors at least some
moments during the day, but after a time her mind became prey to
such intense fear that she could scarcely eat or sleep. Now she
paced the pier all the while--not only during the short hours of
daylight but all through the long, dark evenings, until bedtime.

The first two days after Jan's death Katrina had stayed on the
pier with Glory Goldie, and watched for his return. Then she went
back to Ruffluck. It was not from any feeling of indifference that
she stopped coming to the pier, it was simply that she could not
stand being with her daughter and hearing her speak of Jan. For
Glory Goldie did not disguise her real sentiments. Katrina knew it
was not from any sense of pity or remorse that Glory Goldie was so
determined her father's body should rest in consecrated soil, but
she was afraid, unreasonably afraid while the one for whose death
she was responsible still lay unburied at the bottom of the lake.
She felt that if she could only get her father interred in
churchyard mould he would not be such a menace to her. But so long
as he remained where he was she must live in constant terror of
him and of the punishment he would mete out to her.


Glory Goldie stood on the Borg pier looking down at the lake, which
was now gray and turgid. Her gaze did not penetrate beneath the
surface of the water, yet she seemed to see the whole wide expanse
of lake bottom underneath.

Down there sat he, the Emperor of Portugallia, his hands clasped
round his knees, his eyes fixed on the gray-green water--in
constant expectation that she would come to him. His imperial
regalia had been discarded, for the stick and cap had never gone
down into the depths with him, and the paper stars had of course
been dissolved by the water. He sat there now in his old threadbare
coat with two empty hands. But there was no longer anything
pretentious or ludicrous about him; now he was only powerful and
awe-inspiring.

It was not without reason he had called himself an emperor. So
great had been his power in life that the enemy whose evil deeds he
hated had been overthrown, while his friends had received help and
protection. This power he still possessed. It had not gone from him
even in death.

Only two persons had ever wronged him. One of them had already met
his doom. The other one was herself--his daughter who had first
driven him out of his mind and had afterward caused his death. Her
he bided down there in the deep. His love for her was over. Now he
awaited her not to render her praise and homage, but to drag her
down into the realms of death, as punishment for her heartless
treatment of him.

Glory Goldie had a weird temptation: she wanted to remove the heavy
coffin lid and slide the coffin into the lake, as a boat, and then
to get inside and push away from shore, and afterward stretch
herself out on the bed of sawdust at the bottom of the coffin.

She wondered whether she would sink instantly or whether she would
drift a while, until the lashing waves filled her bark and drew it
under. She also thought that she might not sink at all but would be
carried out to sea only to be cast ashore at one of the elm-edged
points. She felt strangely tempted to put herself to the test. She
would lie perfectly still the whole time, she said to herself, and
use neither hand nor foot to propel the coffin. She would put
herself wholly at the mercy of her judge; he might draw her down or
let her escape as he willed.

If she were thus to seek his indulgence perhaps his great love
would again speak to her; perhaps he would then take pity on her
and grant her grace. But her fear was too great. She no longer
dared trust in his love, and therefore she was afraid to put the
black coffin out on the lake.

An old friend and schoolmate of Glory Goldie sought her out at this
time. It was August Daer Nol of Praesterud, who was still living
under the parental roof.

August Daer Nol was a quiet and sensible man whom it did her good to
talk with. He advised her to go away and take up her old
occupation. It was not well for her to haunt the desolate pier,
watching for the return of a dead man, he said. Glory Goldie
answered that she would not dare leave until her father had been
laid in consecrated ground. But August would not hear of this. The
first time he talked with her nothing was decided, but when he came
again she promised to follow his advice. They parted with the
understanding that he was to come for her the following day and
take her to the railway station in his own carriage.

Had he done so possibly all would have gone smoothly. But he was
prevented from coming himself and sent a hired man with the team.
All the same Glory Goldie got into the carriage and drove off. On
the way to the station she talked with the driver about her father
and encouraged him to relate stories of her father's clairvoyance,
the ones Katrina had told her on the pier and still others.

When she had listened a while she begged the driver to turn back.
She had become so alarmed that she was afraid to go any farther. He
was too powerful, was the old Emperor of Portugallia! She knew how
the dead that have not been buried in churchyard mould haunt and
pursue their enemies. Her father would have to be brought up out of
the water and laid in his coffin. God's Holy Word must be read over
him, else she would never know a moment's peace.


JAN'S LAST WORDS

Along toward Christmas time Glory Goldie received word that her
mother lay at the point of death. Then at last she tore herself
away from the pier.

She went home on foot, this being the best way to get to the
Ashdales--taking the old familiar road across Loby, then on through
the big forest and over Snipa Ridge. When going past the old
Hindrickson homestead she saw a big, broad-shouldered man, with a
strong, grave-looking visage, standing at the roadside mending a
picket fence. The man gave her a stiff nod as she went by. He stood
still for a moment, looking after her, then hastened to overtake
her.

"This must be Glory Goldie of Ruffluck," he said as he came up with
her. "I'd like to have a word with you. I'm Linnart, son of Bjoern
Hindrickson," he added, seeing that she did not know who he was.

"I'm terribly pressed for time now," Glory Goldie told him. "So
perhaps you'd better wait till another day. I've just learned that
my mother is dying."

Linnart Hindrickson then asked if he might walk with her part of
the way. He said that he had thought of going down to the pier to
see her and now he did not want to miss this good opportunity of
speaking with her, as it was very necessary that she should hear
what he had to say.

Glory Goldie made no further objections. She perceived, however,
that the man had some difficulty in stating his business and
concluded it was something of an unpleasant nature. He hemmed and
hawed a while, as if trying to find the right words; presently he
said, with apparent effort:

"I don't believe you know, Glory Goldie, that I was the last person
who talked with your father--the Emperor, as we used to call him."

"No, I did not know of this," answered the girl, at the same time
quickening her steps. She was thinking to herself that this
conversation was something she would rather have escaped.

"One day last autumn," Linnart continued, "while I was out in the
yard hitching up a horse to drive over to the village shop, I saw
the Emperor come running down the road; he seemed in a great hurry,
but when he espied me he stopped and asked if I had seen the
Empress drive by. I couldn't deny that I had. Then he burst out
crying. He had been on his way to Broby, he said, but such a
strange feeling of uneasiness had suddenly come over him that he
had to turn back, and when he reached home he found the hut
deserted. Katrina was also gone. He felt certain his wife and
daughter were leaving by the boat and he didn't know how he should
ever be able to get down to the Borg pier before they were gone."

Glory Goldie stood stock still. "You let him ride with you, of
course?" she said.

"Oh, yes," replied Linn art. "Jan once did me a good turn and I
wanted to repay it. Perhaps I did wrong in giving him a lift?"

"No, indeed!" said Glory Goldie. "It was I who did wrong in
attempting to leave him."

"He wept like a child the whole time he sat in the wagon. I didn't
know what to do to comfort him, but at last I said, 'Don't cry like
that, Jan! We'll surely overtake her. Besides, these little freight
steamers that run in the autumn are never on time.' No sooner had I
said that than he laid his hand on my arm and asked me if I thought
they would be harsh and cruel toward the Empress--those who had
carried her off."

"Those who had carried me off!" repeated Glory Goldie in
astonishment.

"I was as much astonished at that as you are," Linnart declared,
"and I asked him what he meant. Well, he meant those who had lain
in wait for the Empress while she was at home--all the enemies of
whom Glory Goldie had been so afraid that she had not dared to put
on her gold crown or so much as mention Portugallia, and who had
finally overpowered her and carried her into captivity."

"So that was it!"

"Yes, just that. You understand of course that your father did not
weep because he had been deserted and left alone, but because he
thought you were in peril." It had been a little hard for Linnart
to come out with the last few words; they wanted to stick in his
throat. Perhaps he was thinking of old Bjoern Hindrickson and
himself, for there was that in his own life which had taught him
the true worth of a love that never fails you.

But Glory Goldie did not yet understand. She had thought of her
father only with aversion and dread since her return and muttered
something about his being a madman.

Linnart heard what she said, and it hurt him. "I'm not so sure that
Jan was mad!" he retorted. "I told him that I hadn't seen any
gaolers around Glory Goldie. 'My good Linnart,' he then said,
'didn't you notice how closely they guarded her when she drove by?
They were Pride and Hardness, Lust and Vice, all the enemies she
has to battle against back there in her Empire.'"

Glory Goldie stopped a moment and turned toward Linnart. "Well?"
was all she said.

"I replied that these enemies I, too, had seen," returned Linnart
Hindrickson curtly.

The girl gave a short laugh.

"But instantly I regretted having said that," pursued the man. "For
then Jan cried out in despair: 'Oh, pray to God, my dear Linnart,
that I may be able to save the little girl from all evil! It
doesn't matter what becomes of me, just so she is helped.'"

Glory Goldie did not speak, but walked on hurriedly. Something had
begun to pull and tear at her heart strings--something she was
trying to force back. She knew that if that which lay hidden within
should burst its bonds and come to the surface, she would break
down completely.

"And those were Jan's last words," said Linnart. "It wasn't long
after that before he proved that he meant what he said. Don't think
for a moment that Jan jumped into the lake to get away from his own
sorrow; it was only to rescue Glory Goldie from her enemies that he
plunged in after the boat."

Glory Goldie tramped on, faster and faster. Her father's great love
from first to last now stood revealed to her. But she could not
bear the thought of it and wanted to put it behind her.

"We keep pretty well posted in this parish as to one another's
doings," Linnart continued. "There was much ill feeling against
you at first, after the Emperor was drowned. I for my part
considered you unworthy to receive his farewell message. But we all
feel differently now; we like your staying down at the pier to
watch for him."

Then Glory Goldie stopped short. Her cheeks burned and her eyes
flashed with indignation. "I stay down there only because I'm
afraid of him," she said.

"You have never wanted to appear better than you are. We know that.
But we understand perhaps better than you yourself do what lies
back of this waiting. We have also had parents and we haven't
always treated them right, either."

Glory Goldie was so furious that she wanted to say something
dreadful to make Linnart hush, but somehow she couldn't. All she
could do was to run away from him.

Linnart Hindrickson made no attempt to follow her further. He had
said what he wanted to say and he was not displeased with that
morning's work.


THE PASSING OF KATRINA

Katrina lay on the bed in the little but at Ruffluck Croft, the
pallor of death on her face, her eyes closed. It looked as if the
end had already come. But the instant Glory Goldie reached her
bedside and stood patting her hand, she opened her eyes and began
to speak.

"Jan wants me with him," she said, with great effort. "He doesn't
hold it against me that I deserted him."

Glory Goldie started. Now she knew why her mother was dying; she
who had been faithful a lifetime was grieving herself to death for
having failed Jan at the last.

"Why should you have to fret your heart out over that, when I was
the one who forced you to leave him?" said Glory Goldie.

"Just the same the memory of it has been so painful," replied
Katrina. "But now all is well again between Jan and me." Then she
closed her eyes and lay very still, and into her thin, wan face
came a faint light of happiness. Soon she began to speak again,
for there were things which had to be said; she could not find
peace until they were said.

"Don't be so angry with Jan for running after you! He meant only
well by you. Things have never been right with you since you and he
first parted, and he knew it, too, nor with him either. You both
went wrong, each in your own way."

Glory Goldie had felt that her mother would say something of this
sort, and had steeled herself beforehand. But her mother's words
moved her more than she realized, and she tried to say something
comforting. "I shall think of father as he was in the old days. You
remember what good friends we always were at that time."

Katrina seemed to be satisfied with the response, for she settled
back to rest once more. Apparently she had not intended to say
anything further. Then, all at once, she looked up at her daughter
and gave her a smile that bespoke rare tenderness and affection.

"I'm so glad, Glory Goldie, that you have grown beautiful again,"
she said.

For that smile and those words all Glory Goldie's self-control gave
way; she fell upon her knees beside the low bedstead, and wept. It
was the first time since her homecoming that she had shed real
tears.

"Mother, I don't know how you can feel toward me as you do!" cried
the girl. "It's all my fault that you are dying, and I'm to blame
for father's death, too."

Katrina, smiling all the while, moved her hands in a little caress.

"You are so good, mother," said Glory Goldie through her sobs. "You
are so good to me!"

Katrina gripped hard her daughter's hand and raised herself in bed,
to give her final testimony.

"All, that is good in me I have learned from Jan," she declared
After which she sank back on her pillow and said nothing more that
was clear or sensible. The death struggle had begun, and the next
morning she passed away.

But all through the final agony Glory Goldie lay weeping on the
floor beside her mother's bed; she wept away her anguish; her
fever-dreams; her burden of guilt. There was no end to her tears.


THE BURIAL OF THE EMPEROR

It was on the Sunday before Christmas they were to bury Katrina of
Ruffluck. Usually on that particular Sabbath the church attendance
is very poor, as most people like to put off their church-going
until the great Holy Day services.

When the few mourners from the Ashdales drove into the pine grove
between the church and the town hall, they were astonished. For
such crowds of people as were assembled there that Sunday were
rarely seen even when the Dean of Bro came to Svartsjoe once a year,
to preach, or at a church election.

It went without saying that it was not for the purpose of following
old Katrina to her grave that every one to a man turned out.
Something else must have brought them there. Possibly some great
personage was expected at the church, or maybe some clergyman other
than the regular pastor was going to preach, thought the Ashdales
folk, who lived in such an out-of-the-way corner that much could
happen in the parish without their ever hearing of it.

The mourners drove up to the cleared space behind the town hall,
where they stepped down from the wagons. Here, as in the grove,
they found throngs of people, but otherwise they saw nothing out of
the ordinary. Their astonishment increased, but they felt loath to
question any one as to what was going on; for persons who drive in
a funeral procession are expected to keep to themselves and not to
enter into conversation with those who have no part in the mourning.

The coffin was removed from the hearse and placed upon two black
trestles which had been set up just outside the town hall, where
the body and those who had come with it were to remain until the
bells began to toll and the pastor and the sexton were ready to go
with them to the churchyard.

It was a stormy day. Rain came down in lashing showers and beat
against the coffin. One thing was certain: it could never be said
that fine weather had brought all these people out.

But that day nobody seemed to mind the rain and wind. People stood
quietly and patiently under the open sky without seeking the
shelter of either the church or the town hall.

The six pall-bearers and others who had gathered around Katrina
noticed that there were two trestles there besides those on which
her coffin rested. Then there was to be another burial that day.
This they had not known of before. Yet no funeral procession could
be seen approaching. It was already so late that it should have
been at the church by that time.

When it was about ten minutes of ten o'clock and time to be moving
toward the churchyard, the Ashdales folk noticed that every one
withdrew in the direction of the Daer Nol home, which was only two
minutes' walk from the church. They saw then what they had not
observed before, that the path leading from the town hall to the
house of Daer Nol was strewn with spruce twigs and that a spruce
tree had been placed at either side of the gate. Then it was from
there a body was to be taken. They wondered why nothing had been
said about a death in a family of such prominence. Besides, there
were no sheets put up at the windows, as there should be in a house
of mourning.

Then, in a moment, the front doors opened and a funeral party
emerged. First came August Daer Nol, carrying a creped mace. Behind
him walked the six pall-bearers with the casket. And now all the
people who had been standing outside the church fell into line
behind this funeral party. Then it was in order to do honour to
_this_ person they had come.

The coffin was carried down to the town hall and placed beside the
one already there. August Daer Nol arranged the trestles so that the
two coffins would rest side by side. The second coffin was not so
new and shiny as Katrina's. It looked as if it had been washed by
many rains, and had seen rough handling, for it was both scratched
and broken at the edges.

All the folk from the Ashdales suddenly caught their breath. For
then they knew it was not a Daer Nol that lay in this coffin! And
they also knew that it was not for the sake of some stranger of
exalted rank that so many people had come out to church. Instantly
every one looked at Glory Goldie, to see whether she understood. It
was plain she did.

Glory Goldie, pale and heart-broken, had been standing all the
while by her mother's coffin, and as she recognized the one that
had been brought from the Daer Nol home she was beside herself with
joy as one becomes when gaining something for which one has long
been striving. However, she immediately controlled her emotion.
Then, smiling wistfully, she lightly stroked the lid of Katrina's
coffin.

"Now it has turned out as well for you as ever you could have
wished," she seemed to be saying to her dead mother.

August Daer Nol then stepped up to Glory Goldie and took her by the
hand. "No doubt this arrangement is satisfactory to you," he said.
"We found him only last Friday. I thought it would be easier for
you this way."

Glory Goldie stammered a few words, but her lips quavered so that
she could hardly be understood. "Thanks. It's all right. I know he
has come to mother, and not to me."

"He has come to you both, be assured of that, Glory Goldie!" said
August Daer Nol.

The old mistress of Falla, who was now well on toward eighty and
bowed down by the weight of many sorrows, had come to the funeral
out of regard for Katrina, who for many years had been her faithful
servant and friend. She had brought with her the imperial cap and
stick, which had been returned to her after Jan's death. She
intended to place them in the grave with Katrina, thinking the old
woman would like to have with her some reminder of Jan.

Presently Glory Goldie turned to the old mistress of Falla and
asked her for the imperial regalia, and then she stood the long
stick up against Jan's coffin and set the cap on top of the stick.
Every one understood that she was sorry now that she had not wanted
Jan to deck himself out in these emblems of royalty and was trying
to make what slight amends she could. There is so little that one
can do for the dead!

Instantly the stick was placed there the bells in the church tower
began ringing and the pastor, the sexton, and the verger came out
from the vestry and took their places at the head of the funeral
procession.

The rain came in showers that day, but it happened, luckily, that
there was a let-up while the people formed into line--menfolk
first, then womenfolk--to follow the two old peasants to their
grave. Those who lined up looked a little surprised at their being
there, for they did not feel any grief, nor did they care
especially to honour either of the dead. It was simply this: when
the news was spread throughout the parish that Jan of Ruffluck had
come back just in time to be buried with Katrina they had all felt
that there was something singularly touching and miraculous about
this, which made them want to come and see the old couple reunited
in death. And of course no one dreamed that the same thought would
occur to so many others. They felt that this was almost too much of
a demonstration for a couple of poor and lowly cotters. People
glanced at one another rather shamefacedly; but now that they were
there, there was nothing to do but go along to the churchyard.
Then, as it occurred to them that this was just what the Emperor of
Portugallia would have liked, they smiled to themselves.

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