“And to me likewise, I would fain hope, my gracious liege?” observed Gardiner.
“No, not to thee, my Lord of Winchester,” rejoined Henry. “Thou art a tool of the Pope. Listen to me, Edward. Thou wilt be placed under the guidance of the virtuous Cranmer. Give heed to his precepts. But on points of faith, when thou comest to understand them, be biased by no perverse doctrines. There is, unhappily, much discord and Variance in the Church. The clergy preach one against another, teach one contrary to the other, inveigh one against another, without charity or discretion, and few or none of them preach truly and sincerely the word of God according as they ought to do. Unto thee it will be committed to correct these offences, and extinguish these dissensions. Thou wilt enjoy the same supreme spiritual authority as myself. Thou wilt be Heaven’s vicar and high minister. Be not an unprofitable servant. Tread in thy father’s footsteps—so shalt thou not stray from the path.”
“I will do all that in me lies to act as you enjoin me, sire,” replied Edward, meekly. “And I trust that with the aid of his good Grace of Canterbury, I may succeed. I thank you heartily for placing me in his Grace’s hands.”
“The boy hath been schooled in this,” remarked Wriothesley, in a low, contemptuous tone, to Gardiner.
“No doubt on’t; and he knows his lesson well,” rejoined the bishop. “But we will teach him better ere long.”
“Thus much for thy religious culture, my son,” pursued Henry. “Though I would have thee pious and learned, I would not have thee hurt thy health by overstudy. To be firm of mind thou must be firm of body: to uphold the kingly dignity, as thy father hath upheld it, thou must be robust and full of vigor. I would have thee skilled in all manly exercises and accomplishments. Strengthen thy arm betimes, so that it can bear a lance, and thy limbs so that they can sustain harness of war, and brook fatigue.”
“Nay, father,” cried Edward, brightening up and springing to his feet, “I shall soon be strong enough to bear a lance and ride in the tilt-yard; my uncle, Sir Thomas Seymour, tells me so. I often fence with him, and he tells me I am an apt scholar. I would your majesty could see us at practice.”
“No man is better able to teach thee all thou shouldst learn of martial exercises than thine uncle Seymour,” replied the king, patting his son’s head approvingly. “Sir Thomas,” he added to Seymour, who stepped forward promptly at the summons, “I confide this part of my son’s education to thee. While others make him a scholar and a theologian, be it thine to teach him princely manners and accomplishments.”
“He shall lack nothing that I am able to teach, rely on it,” replied Seymour, bowing profoundly.
“Give thy uncle thine hand, Edward,” said the king.
“Ay will I, and that right willingly,” replied the prince, grasping the hand which Seymour proffered him. “I love my uncle Sir Thomas best of any—your majesty excepted.”
“Ha! is it so?” mentally ejaculated Hertford. “Have I no place in thy regard, my gentle nephew?” he added aloud to the prince.
“Certes, my dear lord; I were an ingrate else,” replied Edward. “But my uncle Sir Thomas is oftener with me than you are.”
“I thought as much,” muttered Hertford. “This must be stopped.”
“Thou hast my son’s hand within thine own, Sir Thomas?” demanded Henry.
“Ay, my liege,” replied Seymour.
“Be it a pledge that thou wilt be ever true to him,” pursued the king.
“I hereby vow fidelity to him,” said Seymour, bending the knee, and kissing his nephew’s hand.
“You are the best lance, the best swordsman, and the best horseman at our court, Sir Thomas,” continued the king to Seymour. “See that my son equals you in all these exercises.”
“He shall excel me in them all,” replied the other.
“A word in your ear, Sir Thomas,” said the king. “He is but a tender stripling,” he added, in a lower tone. “Press him not beyond his strength. For your sister’s sake, be a kind uncle to him.”