Book: The Emperor of Portugalia

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But if such was the case, it did not explain why the trees sang
with such gusto just that day; they could rejoice over those
particular blessings any pleasant summer day; they did not call for
any extra music.

Jan sat still in the middle of the road, listening with rapt
attention. It was pleasant hearing the hum of the spruce, though it
was all on one note, with no rests, so that there was neither
melody nor rhythm about it.

He found it so refreshing and delightful up here on the heights. No
wonder the trees felt happy, he mused. The wonder was they sang and
played no better than they did. He looked up at their small twigs
on which every needle was fine and well made, and in its proper
place, and drank in the piney odour that came from them. There was
no flower of the meadow, no blossom of the grove so fragrant! He
noted their half-grown cones on which the scales were compactly
massed for the protection of the seed.

These trees, which seemed to understand so well what to do for
themselves, ought to be able to sing and play so that one could
comprehend what they meant. Yet they kept harping all the while on
the same strain. He grew drowsy listening to them, and stretched
himself flat on the smooth, fine gravel to take a little nap.

But hark! What was this? The instant his head touched the ground
and his eyes closed, the trees struck up something new. Ah, now
there came rhythm and melody!

Then all that other was only a prelude, such as is played at church
before the hymn.

This was what he had felt the whole time, though he had not wanted
to say it even in his mind. The trees also knew what had happened.
It was on his account they tuned up so loudly the instant he
appeared. And now they sang of him--there was no mistaking it now,
when they thought him asleep. Perhaps they did not wish him to hear
how much they were making of him.

And what a song, what a song! He lay all the while with his eyes
shut, but could hear the better for that. Not a sound was lost to
him.

Ah, this was music! It was not just the young trees at the edge of
the road that made music now, but the whole forest. There were
organs and drums and trumpets; there were little thrush flutes and
bullfinch pipes; there were gurgling brooks and singing water-sprites,
tinkling bluebells and thrumming woodpeckers.

Never had he heard anything so beautiful, nor listened to music in
just this way. It rang in his ear; so that he could never forget
it.

When the song was finished and the forest grew silent, he sprang to
his feet as if startled from a dream. Immediately he began to sing
this hymn of the woods so as to fix it forever in his memory.

The Empress's father, for his part,
Feels so happy in his heart.

Then came the refrain, which he had not been able to catch word for
word, but anyhow he sang it about as it had sounded to him:

Austria, Portugal, Metz, Japan,
Read the newspapers, if you can.
Boom, boom, boom, and roll.
Boom, boom.

No gun be his but a sword of gold;
Now a crown for a cap on his head behold!
Austria, Portugal, Metz, Japan,
Read the newspapers, if you can.
Boom, boom, boom, and roll.
Boom, boom.

Golden apples are his meat,
No more of turnips shall he eat.
Austria, Portugal, Metz, Japan,
Read the newspapers, if you can.
Boom, boom, boom, and roll.
Boom, boom.

Court ladies clothed in bright array
Bow as he passes on his way.
Austria, Portugal, Metz, Japan,
Read the newspapers, if you can.
Boom, boom, boom, and roll.
Boom, boom.

When he the forest proudly treads,
All the tree-tops nod their heads.
Austria, Portugal, Metz, Japan,
Read the newspapers, if you can.
Boom, boom, boom, and roll.
Boom, boom.

It was just this "boom, boom" that had sounded best of all to him.
With every boom he struck the ground hard with his stick and made
his voice as deep and strong as he could. He sang the song over and
over again, till the forest fairly rang with it.

But then the way in which it had been composed was so out of the
common! And the fact that this was the first and only time in his
life he had been able to catch and carry a tune was in itself a
proof of its merit.


THE SEVENTEENTH OF AUGUST

The first time Jan of Ruffluck had gone to Loevdala on a seventeenth
of August the visit had not passed off as creditably for him as he
could have wished; so he had never repeated it, although he had
been told that each year it was becoming more lively and festive at
the Manor.

But now that the little girl had come up in the world, it was
altogether different with him. He felt that it would be a great
disappointment to Lieutenant Liljecrona if so exalted a personage
as the Emperor Johannes of Portugallia did not do him the honour of
wishing him happiness on his birthday.

So he donned his imperial regalia and sallied forth, taking good
care not to be among the first arrivals. For him who was an emperor
it was the correct thing not to put in an appearance until all the
guests had made themselves quite at home, and the festivities were
well under way.

Upon the occasion of his former visit he had not ventured farther
than the orchard and the gravelled walk in front of the house. He
had not even gone up to pay his respects to the host. But now he
could not think of behaving so discourteously.

This time he made straight for the big bower at the left of the
porch, where the lieutenant sat with a group of dignitaries from
Svartsjoe and elsewhere, grasped him by the hand, and wished him
many happy returns of the day.

"So you've come out to-day, Jan," said the lieutenant in a tone of
surprise.

To be sure he was not expecting an honour like this, which probably
accounted for his so far forgetting himself as to address the
Emperor by his old name. Jan knew that so genial a man as the
lieutenant could have meant no offense by that, therefore he
corrected him in all meekness.

"We must make allowances for the lieutenant," he said, "since this
is his birthday; but by rights we should be called Emperor Johannes
of Portugallia."

Jan spoke in the gentlest tone possible, but just the same the
other gentlemen all laughed at the lieutenant for having made such
a bad break. Jan had never intended to cause him humiliation on his
birthday, so he promptly dismissed the matter and turned to the
others. Raising his cap with an imperial flourish, he said:

"Go'-day, go'-day, my worthy Generals and Bishops and Governors."
It was his intention to go around and shake hands with everybody,
as one is expected to do at a party.

Nearest the lieutenant sat a short, stocky man in a white cloth
jacket, with a gold-trimmed collar, and a sword at his side, who,
when Jan stepped up to greet him did not offer his whole hand, but
merely held out two fingers. The man's intentions may have been all
right, but of course a potentate like Emperor Johannes of
Portugallia knew he must stand upon his dignity.

"I think you will have to give me your whole hand, my good Bishop
and Governor," he said very pleasantly, for he did not want to
disturb the harmony on this great day.

Then, mind you, the man turned up his nose!

"I have just heard it was not to your liking that Liljecrona called
you by name," he observed, "and I wonder how you can have the
audacity to say _du_ [Note: Du like the French "tu" is used only in
addressing intimates.] to me!" Then, pointing to three poor little
yellow stars that were attached to his coat, he roared: "See
these?"

When remarks of this kind were flung at him, the Emperor Johannes
thought it high time to lay off his humility. He quickly flipped
back his coat, exhibiting a waistcoat covered with large showy
"medals" of "silver" and "gold." He usually kept his coat buttoned
over these decorations as they were easily tarnished, and crushable.
Besides, he knew that people always felt so ill at ease when in the
presence of exalted personages and he had no desire to add to their
embarrassment by parading his grandeur when there was no occasion
for it. Now, however, it had to be done.

"Look here, you!" he said. "This is what you ought to show if you
want to brag. Three paltry little stars--pooh! that's nothing!"

Then you had better believe the man showed proper respect! The fact
that all who knew about the Empress and the Empire were laughing
themselves sick at the Major General must have had its effect, also.

"By cracky!" he ejaculated, rising to his feet and bowing. "If it
isn't a real monarch that I have before me! Your Majesty even knows
how to respond to a speech."

"That's easy when you know how to meet people," retorted the other.
After that no gentleman in the party was so glad to be allowed to
talk to the ruler of Portugallia as was this very man, who had been
so high and mighty at first that he would not present more than two
fingers, when an emperor had offered him his whole hand.

It need hardly be said that none of the others seated in the bower
refused to accord the Emperor a fitting greeting. Now that the
first feeling of surprise and embarrassment had passed and the men
were beginning to perceive that he was not a difficult person to
get on with, emperor though he was, they were as eager as was every
one else to hear all about the little girl's rise to royal honours
and her prospective return to her home parish. At last he was on so
friendly a footing with them all that he even consented to sing for
them the song he had learned in the forest.

This was perhaps too great a condescension on his part, but since
they were all so glad for every word he uttered he could not deny
them the pleasure of hearing him sing, also.

And when he raised his voice in song imagine the consternation!
Then his audience was not confined to the group of elderly
gentlemen in the bower, For immediately the old countesses and the
old wives of the old generals who had been sitting on the big sofa
in the drawing room, sipping tea and eating bonbons, and the young
barons and young Court ladies who had been dancing in the ballroom,
all came rushing out to hear him and all eyes were fixed on him,
which was quite the proper thing, as he was an emperor.

The like of that song they had never heard, of course, and as soon
as he had sung it through they wanted him to sing it again. He
hesitated a good while--for one must never be too obliging in such
matters--but they would not be satisfied until he had yielded to
their importunities. And this time, when he came to the refrain,
they all joined in, and when he got to the "boom, boom" the young
barons beat time with their feet and the young Court ladies clapped
their hands to the measure of the tune.

But that was a wonderful lay! As he sang it again and again, with
so many smartly dressed people chiming in; so many pretty young
ladies darting him glances of approval; so many young swains
shouting _bravo_ after every verse, he felt as dizzy as if he had
been dancing. It was as if some one had taken him in their arms and
lifted him into the air.

He did not lose his head, though, but knew all the while that his
feet were still on the earth. Meantime, he had the pleasant
sensation of being elevated far above every one. On the one hand,
he was being borne up by the honour, on the other by the glory.
They bore him away on strong wings and placed him upon an imperial
throne, far, far away amongst the rosy evening clouds.

There was but one thing wanting. Think, if the great Empress, his
little Glory Goldie, had only been there, too!

Instantly this thought flashed upon him, a red shimmer passed
before his eyes. Gazing at it more intently, he saw that it
emanated from a young girl in a red frock who had just come out
from the house, and was then standing on the porch.

The young girl was tall and graceful and had a wealth of gold
yellow hair. From where he stood he could not see her face, but he
thought she could be none other than Glory Goldie. Then he knew why
he had been so blissfully happy that evening; it was just a
foretoken of the little girl's nearness. Breaking off in the middle
of his song and pushing aside all who stood in his way, he ran
toward the house.

When he reached the steps he was obliged to halt. His heart thumped
so violently it seemed ready to burst. But gradually he recovered
just enough strength to be able to proceed. Very slowly he mounted
step by step till at last he was on the porch. Then, spreading out
his arms, he whispered:

"Glory Goldie!"

Instantly the young girl turned round. It was not Glory Goldie! A
strange woman stood there, staring at him in astonishment.

Not a word could he utter, but tears sprang to his eyes; he could
not hold them back. Now he faced about and staggered down the
steps. Turning his back upon all the merriment and splendour, he
went on up the driveway.

The people kept calling for him. They wanted him to come back and
sing to them again. But he heard them not. As fast as he could go
he hurried toward the woods, where he could be alone with his grief.


KATRINA AND JAN

Jan of Ruffluck had never had so many things to think about and
ponder over as now, that he had become an emperor.

In the first place he had to be very guarded, since greatness had
been thrust upon him, so as not to let pride get the upper hand. He
must bear in mind continually that we humans were all made from the
same material and had sprung from the same First Parents; that we
were all of us weak and sinful and at bottom one person was no
better than another.

All his life long he had observed, to his dismay, how people tried
to lord it over one another, and of course he had no desire to do
likewise. He found, however, that it was not an easy matter for one
who had become exalted to maintain a proper humility. His greatest
concern was that he might perhaps say or do something that would
cause his old friends, who were still obliged to pursue their
humble callings, to feel themselves slighted and forgotten.
Therefore he deemed it best when attending such functions as
dinners and parties--which duty demanded of him--never to mention
in the hearing of these people the great distinction that had come
to him. He could not blame them for envying him. Indeed not! Just
the same he felt it was wisest not to make them draw comparisons.

And of course he could not ask men like Boerje and the seine-maker
to address him as Emperor. Such old friends could call him Jan, as
they had always done; for they could never bring themselves to do
otherwise.

But the one whom he had to consider before all others and be most
guarded with was the old wife, who sat at home in the hut. It would
have been a great consolation to him, and a joy as well, if
greatness had come to her also. But it had not. She was the same as
of yore. Anything else was hardly to be expected. Glory Goldie must
have known it would be quite impossible to make an empress of
Katrina. One could not imagine the old woman pinning a golden
coronet on her hair when going to church; she would have stayed at
home rather than show her face framed in anything but the usual
black silk headshawl.

Katrina had declared out and out she did not want to hear about
Glory Goldie being an empress. On the whole it was perhaps best to
humour her in this.

But one can understand it must have been hard for him who spent his
mornings at the pier, surrounded by admiring throngs of people, who
at every turn addressed him as "Emperor," to drop his royal air the
moment he set foot in his own house. It cannot be denied that he
found it a bit irksome having to fetch wood and water for Katrina
and then to be spoken to as if he had gone backward in life instead
of forward.

If Katrina had only stopped at that he would not have minded it,
but she even complained because he would not go out to work now, as
in former days. When she came with such things he always turned a
deaf ear. As if he did not know that the Empress of Portugallia
would soon send him so much money that he need never again put on
his working clothes! He felt it would be an insult to _her_ to give
in to Katrina on this point.


One afternoon, toward the end of August, as Jan was sitting upon
the flat stone in front of the hut, smoking his pipe, he glimpsed
some bright frocks in the woods close by, and heard the ring of
youthful voices.

Katrina had just gone down to the birch grove to cut twigs for a
broom: but before leaving she had said to Jan that hereafter they
must arrange their matters so that she could go down to Falla and
dig ditches; he might stay at home and do the cooking and mending,
since he was too fine now to work for others. He had not said a
word in retort, but all the same it was mighty unpleasant having to
listen to such talk; therefore he was very glad that he could turn
his thoughts to something else. Instantly he ran inside for his
imperial cap and stick, and was out again and down at the gate just
as the young girls came along.

There were no less than five of them in the party, the three young
misses from Loevdala and two strangers, who were evidently guests at
the Manor.

"Go'-day, my dear Court ladies," said Jan as he swung the gate wide
open and went out toward them. "Go'-day, my dear Court ladies," he
repeated, at the same time making such a big sweep with his cap
that it almost touched the ground.

The girls stood stockstill. They looked a bit shy at first, but he
soon helped them over their momentary embarrassment.

Then it was "good-day" and "our kind Emperor." It was plain they
were really glad to see him again. These little misses were not
like Katrina and the rest of the Ashdales folk. They were not at
all averse to hearing about the Empress and immediately asked him
if Her Highness was well and if she was not expected home soon.

They also asked if they might be allowed to step into the hut, to
see how it looked inside. That he could well afford to let them do,
for Katrina always kept the house so clean and tidy that they could
receive callers there at any time.

When the young misses from the Manor came into the house they were
no doubt surprised that the great Empress had grown up in a little
place like that. It may have done very well in the old days, when
she was used to it, they said, but how would it be now should she
come back? Would she reside here, with her parents, or return to
Portugallia?

Jan had thought the selfsame things himself, and he understood of
course that Glory Goldie could not settle down in the Ashdales when
she had a whole kingdom to rule over.

"The chances are that the Empress will return to Portugallia," he
replied.

"Then you will accompany her, I suppose?" said one of the little
misses.

Jan would rather the young lady had not questioned him regarding
that matter. Nor did he give her any reply at first, but she was
persistent.

"Possibly you don't know as yet how it will be?" she said.

Oh, yes, he knew all about it, only he was not quite sure how
people would regard his decision. Perhaps they might think it was
not the correct thing for an emperor to do. "I shall remain at
home," he told her. "It would never do for me to leave Katrina."

"So Katrina is not going to Portugallia?"

"No," he answered. "You couldn't get Katrina away from the hut, and
I shall stay right here with her. You see when one has promised to
love and cherish till death--"

"Yes, I understand that one can't break that vow." This was said by
the young girl who seemed most eager to know about everything. "Do
you hear that, all of you?" she added. "Jan won't leave his wife
though all the glories of Portugallia are tempting him."

And think of it! The girls were very glad of this. They patted him
on the back and told him he did right. That was a favourable sign,
they said, for it showed that all was not over yet with good old
Jan Anderson of Ruffluck Croft.

He could not make out just what they meant by that; but probably
they were happy to think the parish was not going to lose him.

They bade him good-bye now, saying they were going over to Doveness
to a garden party.

They had barely gone when Katrina walked in. She must have been
standing outside the door listening. But how long she had stood
there or how much she had heard, Jan did not know. Anyway, she
looked more amiable and serene than she had appeared in a long
while.

"You're an old simpleton," she told him. "I wonder what other women
would say if they had a husband like you? But still it's a comfort
to know that you don't want to go away from me."


BJOERN HINDRICKSON'S FUNERAL

Jan Anderson of Ruffluck was not invited to the funeral of Bjoern
Hindrickson of Loby.

But he understood, of course, that the family of the departed had
not been quite certain that he would care to claim kinship with
them now that he had risen to such glory and honour; possibly they
feared it might upset their arrangements if so exalted a personage
as Johannes of Portugallia were to attend the funeral.

The immediate relatives of the late Bjoern Hindrickson naturally
wished to ride in the first carriage, where by rights place should
have been made for him who was an emperor. They knew, to be sure,
that he was not over particular about the things which seem to
count for so much with most folks. It would never have occurred to
him to stand in the way of those who like to sit in the place of
honour at special functions. Therefore, rather than cause any ill
feeling, he remained away from the house of mourning during the
early forenoon, before the funeral procession had started, and went
direct to the church. Not until the bells had begun tolling and the
long procession had broken up on church ground did he take his
place among his relatives.

When they saw Jan there they all looked a little astonished; but
now he was so accustomed to seeing folks surprised at his
condescension that he took it as a matter of course. No doubt they
would have liked to place him at the head of the line, but then it
was too late to do so, as they were already moving toward the
churchyard.

After the burial service, when he accompanied the funeral party to
the church and seated himself on the mourners' bench, they appeared
to be slightly embarrassed. However, there was no time to comment
upon his having placed himself among them instead of occupying his
usual high seat, in the gentry's gallery--as the opening hymn had
just begun.

At the close of the service, when the conveyances belonging to the
funeral party drove up onto the knoll, Jan went out and climbed
into the hearse, where he sat down upon the dais on which the
coffin rested on the drive to the churchyard. As the big wagon
would now be going back empty, he knew that here he would not be
taking up some other person's place. The daughter and son-in-law of
the late Bjoern Hindrickson walked back and forth at the side of the
hearse and looked at him. They regretted no doubt that they could
not ask him to ride in one of the first carriages. Nor did he wish
to incommode any one. He was what he was in any case.

During the drive to Loby he could not help thinking of the time
when he and Glory Goldie had called upon their rich relatives. This
time, however, it was all so different! Who was great and respected
now? and who was conferring an honour upon his kinsfolk by seeking
them out?

As the carriages drew up in turn before the house of mourning, the
occupants stepped out and were conducted into the large waiting-room
on the ground floor where they removed their wraps. Two neighbours
of the Hindricksons, who acted as host and hostess, then invited
the more prominent persons among the guests to step upstairs, where
dinner was served.

It was a difficult task having to single out those who were to sit
at the first table. For at so large a funeral gathering it was
impossible to make room for all the guests at one sitting. The
table had to be cleared and set three or four times.

Some people would have regarded it as an inexcusable oversight had
they not been asked to sit at the first table. As for him who had
risen to the exalted station of Emperor, he could be exceedingly
obliging in many ways, but to be allowed to sit at the first table
was a right which he must not forgo; otherwise folks might think he
did not know it was his prerogative to come before all others. It
did not matter so much his not being among the very first to be
requested to step upstairs. It was self-evident that he should dine
with the pastor and the gentry; so he felt no uneasiness on that
score.

He sat all by himself on a corner bench, quite silent. Here nobody
came up to chat with him about the Empress, and he seemed a bit
dejected. When he left home Katrina had begged him not to come to
this funeral, because the folks at this farm were of too good stock
to cringe to either kings or emperors. It looked now as if she were
right about it. For old peasants who have lived on the same farm
from time immemorial consider themselves the superiors of the
titled aristocracy.

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