of the monastic orders.
A man condemned to the tonsure could not serve as king or chieftain, but
must spend the remainder of his days in seclusion as a monk. So Paul was
disposed of without losing his life.

Wamba, however, did not spend all his time in fighting with conspirators.
He was so just a king that all the historians praise him to the
stars,--though none of them tell us what just deeds he did. He was one of
those famous monarchs around whom legend loves to grow, as the green
leaves grew around his dry rod, and who become kings of fancy in the
absence of facts. About all we know is that he was "Good King Wamba," a
just and merciful man under whom Spain reached its age of gold.

He made a great and beautiful city of Toledo, his capital. It had a wall,
but he gave it another, stronger and loftier. And within the city he built
a noble palace and other splendid buildings, all of which time has swept
away. But over the great gate of Toledo the inscription still remains:
_Erexit fautore Deo Rex inclytus urbem Wamba_. "To God and King Wamba the
city owes its walls."

Alas! the end was what might be expected of such goodness in so evil an
age. A traitor arose among those he most favored. There was a youth named
Ervigio, in whose veins ran the blood of former kings, and whom Wamba so
loved and honored as to raise him to great authority in the kingdom.
Ervigio was one of those who must be king or slave. Ambition made him
forget all favors, and he determined to cast his royal benefactor from the
throne. But he was not base enough to murder the good old man to whom he
owed his greatness. It was enough if he could make him incapable of
reigning,--as Wamba had done with Paul.

To accomplish this he gave the king a sleeping potion, and while he was
under its influence had him tonsured,--that is, had the crown of his head
shaved. He then proclaimed that this had been done at the wish of the
king, who was weary of the throne. But whether or not, the law was strict.
No matter how or why it was done, no man who had received the tonsure
could ever again sit upon the Gothic throne. Fortunately for Ervigio,
Wamba cared no more for the crown now than he had done at first, and when
he came back to his senses he made little question of the base trick of
his favorite, but cheerfully enough became a monk. The remaining seven
years of his life he passed happily in withdrawal from a world into which
he had been forced against his will.