THE GHOST
The longer Baron Karl von Engstrom remained at Hanssonborg, the less did
Erik like him. In the first place, Greta now spent all her time with
him; and that meant no more story or music hours with Erik.
Then, to Erik, a man without strength was like a meal without food. The
men of his country were brave. Colonel Lindbergh's family came from
Sweden. But Erik could not help feeling that the Baron was not only
weak, but a coward. And at last something happened to show Erik that he
was right.
One night after dinner, when the bright moon painted the snow silver,
Erik watched Greta and Baron Karl come out of the house. They were
followed by Greta's big dogs.
[Illustration: A SWEDISH LIVING ROOM
_Swedish Travel Information Bureau, Inc._]
Every evening these dogs were given their last run and always by someone
in the family. This duty was called "looking at the stars." And while
Greta and Karl were "looking at the stars," Erik was looking at them.
The Baron was bundled up in his fur coat, but Greta had only a light
wrap thrown over her evening gown. She ran off into the forest, the dogs
barking at her heels. She thought, no doubt, that Baron Karl would
follow her. But he stood there alone, shivering and scowling.
Erik hid behind a near-by tree. He heard the Baron mumble, "This is
absurd! I shall freeze to death! The doctor says--"
Erik suddenly exploded with a loud "Boo!" and the Baron jumped up into
the air.
He lifted his hands above his head and squeaked, "Help!" When Erik came
out from behind the tree, he cried, "Don't--don't hurt me! I'm--I'm
sick. The doctor says--"
However, when he observed that it was only a child who stood innocently
smiling at him, he lowered his hands and stopped whimpering.
"Good evening, sir," said Erik.
Even though Erik could not help feeling contempt for this frightened
little man, he was polite to Baron Karl. Swedish children are always
polite to everyone. But he kept thinking of his brother Nils, who would
not have been frightened by anything on earth.
Nils studied late every night, and that, Erik knew, was because he had a
dream. He wanted to become the manager of Hanssonborg some day. He
wanted to marry Greta.
There was no reason why Nils's dream should not come true--no reason at
all. If only this cowardly little gnome of a Baron would go away! He
must go away. And all at once Erik decided to see that he did.
The Swedes love peace. In fact, all Scandinavian peoples love peace.
This fact is shown by the wise way in which Sweden and Norway, who were
united for many years under a Swedish king, dissolved their union in
1905. Without the firing of a gun or the shedding of a drop of blood,
the two countries broke the bond and settled their differences in a
peace that has lasted to this day. For over a century, they have not had
war, and Erik was as peaceful as a boy could be. But then, Sweden has
never been invaded by a conquering enemy, and Hanssonborg had. Erik
vowed to drive his enemy away.
[Illustration: SKI TRAINS TAKE CHILDREN TO THE RACES
_Swedish Travel Information Bureau, Inc._]
A Swede by the name of Alfred Nobel (=no bel´=) invented the famous
Nobel Peace prize; but he also invented dynamite. Erik, who could sing
like an angel, now declared war upon Baron von Engstrom. And the plan
that flashed through his mind was like a flash of dynamite. What an
uproar it was going to cause at Hanssonborg!
[Illustration: A CHILDREN'S SKI RACE
_Swedish Travel Information Bureau, Inc._]
Mysteriously Erik looked about him, then turned to the Baron and asked,
"Did you hear a sound, sir?"
The Baron had not heard anything.
"But I was sure I did," said Erik. "A ghostly sound."
The Baron gargled, "Ghostly? Absurd!"
"Oh, no, sir," said Erik seriously. "Hanssonborg is haunted."
Then Erik told him a legend which some of the peasants believed. The
spirit of a warrior maiden was supposed to dwell in the walls of the
old castle. Her battle cry was often heard at the dead of night.
"And that is why," continued Erik, as he watched the Baron's pasty face
grow paler in the moonlight, "no one will marry Greta. For, you see,
every time a suitor comes, he is driven away by these ghostly cries."
The Baron tried to utter a brave laugh, but it turned into a cracked
cackle, like tin cans clinking together. Erik had an idea that the
Baron's knees were clinking together, too.
"Absurd!" he repeated.
"Oh, no, it is not, sir," said Erik. He leaned closer and whispered, "It
is a warning to those who try to win Greta from the one who loves her."
Before the Baron could answer, Erik heard Greta returning through the
forest. So he called, "Good-bye," and ran off.
He was pleased with his plan. He had prepared his enemy for the ghost,
and the ghost would cry tonight. He would see to that. Afterwards, he
felt sure, the Baron would leave Hanssonborg forever.
He walked toward the back of the house. Erik's favorite room, whether in
his mother's hut or in Fru Hansson's castle, was the kitchen. Especially
at Christmas time, a Swedish kitchen was a joy to a boy's heart--or
rather, to his stomach.
Ever since the middle of November, preparations had been going
on--preparations which had to do with the salting and smoking of meat
and the curing of fish.
"Good evening, Fru Svenson," said Erik, entering the kitchen and bowing
low, while delightedly eying a platter of freshly baked buns.
The cook was his friend, and a very valuable one. She had the figure of
a washtub, but her face was kind. She was drinking coffee at the kitchen
table. Everybody is always drinking coffee in Sweden, whether it is in
the kitchen or in the drawing-room.
[Illustration: AN OLD SWEDISH FARM KITCHEN
_Swedish Travel Information Bureau, Inc._]
"Will you have a spiced bun?" she asked Erik.
He answered, "tack," which means something like "thanks," and helped
himself to two.
"Greedy little one!" laughed Fru Svenson. "Now you shall sing twice for
me instead of once."
The cook loved music, and she never tired of hearing Erik's sweet voice.
So when he had finished his two buns, he stood in the center of the huge
room and began to sing.
This kitchen was a combination of the old and the new. Its cooking range
had been built over an old oven. Modern electric lights gleamed upon
ancient copper pots. In the pantry could be seen flat bread disks with
holes in their centers, hanging upon poles from the ceiling. Everything
was clean and neat. Everything shone.
Erik watched Fru Svenson's head nodding as he sang a soft little
lullaby, and after he had sung another one, she was fast asleep. Now
this was exactly what Erik wanted, and he tiptoed quietly out of the
room.
Carefully he made his way through the big house that had once been a
castle, through the hall, with its stone floor and whitewashed walls. A
fire crackled in the grate. It threw weird light upon the suits of armor
which glittered in the corners. They looked like live knights.
Erik hurried up the stairs and hid himself in an empty room. He waited
there until the household was asleep, and then he crept out upon the
roof.
Nearly every room had its own fireplace, and there were two huge
chimneys. Erik knew Hanssonborg well. He knew which chimney led down
into Baron Karl's bedroom. He began to sing into it.
He sang one of the wildest songs that has ever been written. It is
called "The Cry of the Valkyries" (=val-kir´is=) and it is from an
opera, based upon a Norse myth.
The Valkyries were warrior maidens who guarded Valhalla (=val-hal´a=),
the home of the gods. They rode through the sky crying, "Hoyotoho!";
and that is the song Erik now sang.
Greta had taught it to him, because Greta loved all the wonderful operas
of Richard Wagner. She had seen and heard them performed at the
Stockholm Opera House.
"Hoyotoho!" shrieked Erik in his shrill, boyish voice. "Hoyotoho!"
[Illustration: "HOYOTOHO!" SHRIEKED ERIK]
It must have sounded ghostly. When he thought that he had been a
Valkyrie long enough, he stopped and let himself into the house again.
He hoped that nobody had heard him, except, of course, the Baron. The
Baron could not have helped hearing him. But suppose Fru Hansson had
been awakened and were to catch him as he made his way out of the house.
That was a dreadful thought.
All at once, he heard a noise. Someone was up. Someone was after him.
Had Erik been a Valkyrie, riding on the fleetest steed in all Valhalla,
he could not have sped out of that house any faster than he did.