The Emperor of Portugallia

HELD!

It seemed extraordinary to many that Glory Goldie of Ruffluck should have to stand at the Borg pier day after day, watching for one who never came.

Glory Goldie did not stand there waiting on fine light summer days either! She was on the pier in bleak and stormy November and in dark and cold December. Nor did she have any sweet and solacing dreams about travellers from a far country who would step ashore here in pomp and state. She had eyes and thoughts only for a boat that was being rowed back and forth on the lake, just beyond the pier, dragging for the body of a drowned man.

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 Löven.

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 Där Nol of Prästerud, who was still living under the parental roof.

August Där 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 Björn 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 Björn 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 hut 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 Svartsjö 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.