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."