Up rose a noble thane, and spake his mind.
"Surely we can defend our own city until the valiant Edmund brings us aid. We have kept off Canute before, and his father before him, and we can do as much again. Meanwhile Edmund will soon have all Wessex at his back, and Canute will find his match for once."
The words of the gallant speaker found their echo in many a breast, and it was decided that Edmund should be advised to hurry into Wessex, and leave London to defend itself.
A deputation from the council at once waited upon Edmund, and in the name of the city, and, as they took the liberty of adding, of every true man in England, they proferred him his father's crown. Like the citizens of a certain modern capital, they constituted themselves the representatives of the nation.
Edmund, who certainly did not lack confidence, and who could not help knowing that he alone was able to cope with the Danes, took scant time to consider their proposal.
"I accept the crown," he said; "a thorny one it is like to prove, but I thank you for your love and trust."
In the course of a day or two Ethelred the Unready was buried by Archbishop Lyfing in St. Paul's minster, with the assistance of the cathedral body. Emma and her children, as also Edwy, the son of Ethelred by his first wife, were the chief mourners, nay, the only real ones. Most men felt as when a cloud passes away. The sad procession passed through the streets, the people flocked into the church, and in the presence of all the "wise men" of London, they solemnly committed the frail tabernacle in which the living spirit had sinned and suffered to the parent earth, where the rush and roar of a mighty city should ever peal around it.
A few days later the archbishop was called upon to perform a very different ceremony, the coronation of King Edmund, which also took place in St. Paul's Cathedral, amidst tears of joy, and cries which even the sanctity of the place could not wholly restrain, "God bless King Edmund!" The solemn oath of fidelity was administered, and when all was over, with mingled tears and acclamations, those who had met to bury the late king greeted with joy his son and successor.
It yet remained to be seen whether the choice of the realm would ratify this decisive step on the part of the citizens of London.
Emma, the queen dowager, was deeply mortified, even while she confessed the heritage was hardly worth having. Still her boy Alfred seemed slighted by the choice, and she left England at once, with Alfred and Edward, for Normandy, while Elgitha departed secretly from London to join her husband Edric, and tell him all that had been done.