Now the Duke of Somerset was very ambitious, and since he had so much of the power of a king, he began to act and to talk as if he were really king. This made some people angry and other people jealous. One of the jealous ones was Lord Seymour, the Protector's brother. Somerset was very stern with Edward, and kept him very short of money, so Seymour tried to win the young King's liking by kindness and by gifts of pocket-money, which kings like as well as other boys. But Seymour's enemies were too strong for him; he was shut up in the tower, and Somerset so influenced the child king that he consented to have his kind uncle condemned to death. It seems a pity that a boy so wise and good should have been so cold-hearted. It must have been because all the men around him were hard and cold; if he had only not been a king he might have been warm and loving and full of gratitude for kindness.
Meantime Somerset went on being more and more proud and ambitious and making more and more people hate him. Finally, after he had put down two rebellions by very cruel means, another nobleman, the Duke of Northumberland, formed a plot to kill Somerset and become Protector himself. When Somerset heard this, he went to Edward's palace, and frightened the boy into going away with him on his flight. He thought that the people would spare his own life out of love and respect for Edward, and like a coward he used the young King as a shield. It was dusk when they set out, and the crowded courtyard of the palace was alight with moving torches and glittering armor. Confused and alarmed by the champing of the horses, the rattle of steel, and the sound of voices, the boy cried out, "I pray, good people, be good to us and to our uncle."
Then Somerset made a long, angry speech to the people, telling them that he knew of the plot to kill him and seize the King. He finished his speech in truly cowardly fashion. "I tell you," he said, "if anything is attempted against me, here," pointing to the King, "is he who shall die before me."
The King and his uncle fled away safely to Windsor. They rode almost all night, and arrived at dawn. Nothing was ready for them; they were not expected, and there was neither food nor fire. The October nights were cold, and the boy, who was never strong, fell ill of cold and weariness and fear. At Windsor he lived closely guarded, and felt as if he were in prison, for the place was then only a fortress, not a beautiful castle as it is now.
He did not stay long at Windsor, however. Somerset's enemies came after him, and presented to Edward all their charges against the cruel, ambitious Protector. Edward seems to have listened to them very readily, and not to have tried to save his uncle when he was taken and shut up in the Tower of London. And later, when Somerset was beheaded, the King cared little about his uncle's fate. It seems strange that so lovable a boy should have said not one word of regret, even though he had never liked his uncle.
So, in the midst of anxiety and strife and scenes that hardened his boyish heart, Edward grew to be fifteen years old. He was now beginning to take great interest in the government, and to show that he had a mind and will of his own. Yet, King though he was, he still went on with lessons. So earnest was he that he was held up to all the boys of England, as an example. At the same time, however, he liked to play, though he had sadly little chance for it. He played a game something like baseball, and tennis, and was fond of archery as a sport.
You will be interested to read what were the things that a boy who was to be a king had learned by the time he was fifteen. He could speak and write Latin and French as well as English. He read Greek, Italian, and Spanish. He had studied the geography of his own country thoroughly, and knew all about the chief ports of England, Ireland, Scotland, and France. He had studied fortifications, and the places where they needed to be built or strengthened. He astonished his advisers by the intelligence with which he could talk about affairs of state.
It seems likely, does it not, that Edward would have made an excellent King if ever he had taken the government into his own hands? For the only fault that shows plainly in him is his coldness of heart. But he had never been strong, and before he was sixteen he became very ill, as a result of a cough that he had had for a long time. He had not strength to fight off the disease; so, patiently and gently as he had lived, the boy King died. He had had a chance to be neither a real boy nor a real King.
—Adapted from "Boy-Kings and Girl-Queens",
by H. E. Marshall.