In dead silence the populace saw borne past them the coffin of the king, before whom they had trembled so much, and for whom they now had not a word of mourning or of pity--no tears for the dead who for seven-and-thirty years had been their king.
They were bearing the coffin to Westminster Abbey to the splendid monument which Wolsey had built there for his royal master.

But the way was long, and the panting horses with black housings, which drew the hearse, had often to stop and rest.

And all of a sudden, as the carriage stood still on one of the large open squares, blood was seen to issue from the king's coffin.

It streamed down in crimson currents and flowed over the stones of the streets.

The people with a shudder stood around and saw the king's blood flowing, and thought how much blood he had spilt on that same spot, for the coffin was standing on the square where the executions were wont to take place, and where the scaffolds were erected and the stakes set.