The boy was not spoiled by all this honor and praise, but went willingly away from the glories of the court to stay with his beloved sister Elizabeth. Less than a year were they together, and then it was thought best for them to be separated. Edward was but a lonely little child in spite of his stateliness when on the great charger, and he grieved so for his sister that she wrote to him suggesting that they write frequent letters to each other. The boy caught eagerly at the idea. “Nothing can now occur to me more grateful than your letters,” he wrote in the prim, stilted fashion of the day, and he added, “It is a comfort to my regret that I hope shortly to see you again if no accident intervenes.” He did see her again before many weeks had passed, for there was news to tell which the councilors wished both children to hear.
King Henry had been growing more and more feeble. For some time before his death, it was so difficult for him to sign his name that three men, acting together, were given the right to do it for him. Two made an impression of his signature with a dry stamp, and the third traced the letters with ink. Henry grew no less bitter in his enmity to all who opposed him, and one of his last acts was to order the execution of his aunt’s husband.
One winter day two men galloped swiftly over the road to the palace which was then the home of Edward.
“Inform his Highness that the Duke of Somerset and Sir Anthony Brown await his pleasure,” was the message brought to the prince. The Duke of Somerset was Edward’s mother’s brother, and he went eagerly to meet his guests.
“I rejoice that you bring me word of his Majesty,” said the boy. “Is it not yet his will that I should come to him?”
“Your Grace,” answered the Duke, “his Majesty sent no such message, but he would that you go with us to the home of her Grace, the Lady Elizabeth.” The prince did not question a command that was so in accordance with his wishes, and they set off on horseback.
When the children were together, the duke bowed low before the boy of ten years, his own nephew, and said:—
“Your Majesty, graciously permit your faithful servants to kiss your hand and to promise you their humblest obedience both now and ever. A grievous duty is it, indeed, to declare to you that our illustrious king, Henry VIII., no more governs this realm of England. There is comfort for his sorrowing subjects in the thought that he has left us so noble and gracious a prince to rule us in his stead.”
Edward had known nothing but kindness from his father, and now that the king was dead, Elizabeth no longer remembered what he had made her suffer. Edward forgot that he was a king, and the children threw themselves into each other’s arms and sobbed and cried until those who were about them wept for sympathy.
Now the king had died three days before, but lest there should be some insurrection or an attempt to put Mary on the throne, the Duke of Somerset and others who meant to be the real rulers of the reign of Edward kept the news of his death a secret until they could get the young king safely into their hands and could establish the government in his name. Edward was conducted to the royal apartments in the Tower of London with an honorable escort of troops and nobles. There was great blowing of trumpets and waving of banners, and the boy was proclaimed king of England, France, and Ireland, and supreme head of the church in England and Ireland. A few weeks later the coronation took place, and then there was a rejoicing indeed. The streets through which the young king rode were hung with tapestry and banners. Here and there booths, or stages had been built, and in them all sorts of games and plays were carried on to amuse the people. A rope was stretched from the steeple of St. Paul’s church and fastened firmly to a great anchor lying on the ground. An acrobat contrived to creep halfway up this rope, “aided neither by hand nor by foot,” the old account says. Then he performed many feats in mid-air, “whereat,” as the story puts it, “king and nobles had good pastime.”