Historical Tales, Volume VII | Page 2

you. You have been elected king of Spain."
"There is no nobler work," answered Wamba. "Seek elsewhere your
monarch. I prefer to rule over my fields."
The astonished heralds knew not what to make of this. To them the
man who would not be king must be a saint--or an idiot. They reasoned,
begged, implored, until Wamba, anxious to get rid of them, said,--
"I will accept the crown when the dry rod in my hand grows green

again,--and not till then."
The good old husbandman fancied that he had fairly settled the
question, but miracle defeated his purpose. To his utter surprise and
their deep astonishment the dry stick which he thrust into the ground at
once became a green plant, fresh leaves breaking out on its upper end.
What was the old man fond of his plough to do in such a case? He had
appealed to Heaven, and here was Heaven's reply. He went with the
heralds to the electoral congress, but there, in spite of the green branch,
he again refused to be king. He knew what it meant to try and govern
men like those around him, and preferred not to undertake the task. But
one of the chiefs sprang up, drew his sword, and advanced to the old
man.
"If you are still obstinate in refusing the position we offer you," he
sternly said, "you shall lose your head as well as your crown."
His fierce eyes and brandished sword gave weight to his words, and
Wamba, concluding that he would rather be a king than a corpse,
accepted the trust. He was then escorted by the council and the army to
Toledo, feeling more like a captive than a monarch. There he was
anointed and crowned, and, from being lord of his fields, the wise old
husbandman became king of Spain.
Such a king as Wamba proved to be the Goths had never known. Age
had brought him wisdom, but it had not robbed him of energy. He
knew what he had to expect and showed himself master of the situation.
Revolts broke out, conspiracies threatened the throne, but one after
another he put them down. Yet he was as merciful as he was prompt.
His enemies were set free and bidden to behave themselves better in the
future. One ambitious noble named Paul, who thought it would be an
easy thing to take the throne from an old man who had shown so
plainly that he did not want it, rose in rebellion. He soon learned his
mistake. Wamba met him in battle, routed his army, and took him
prisoner. Paul expected nothing less than to have his head stricken off,
but Wamba simply ordered that it should be shaved.
To shave the crown of the head in those days was no trifling matter. It

formed what is known as the tonsure, then the mark 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