They cried to one another that it held gold "for the bloody Pope"; and burst it open to find a hair shirt, and a pair of disciplines.
* * * * * It was a long row down to the Tower from Southwark against the in-flowing tide.

As they passed beneath the bridge Chris stared up at the crowding houses, the great gates at either end, and the faces craning down; and he caught one glimpse as they shot through the narrow passage between the piers, of the tall wall above the gate, the poles rising from it, and the severed heads that crowned them.

Somewhere among that forest of grim stems the Carthusian priors looked down.
As he turned in his seat he saw the boatman grinning to himself, and following his eyes observed the Prior beside him with a white fixed face looking steadily downwards towards his feet.
They found no difficulty when they landed at the stairs, and showed the order at the gate.

The warder called to a man within the guard-room who came out and went before them along the walled way that led to the inner ward.

They turned up to the left presently and found themselves in the great court that surrounded the White Tower.
The Prior walked heavily with his face downcast as if he wished to avoid notice, and Chris saw that he paid no attention to the men-at-arms and other persons here and there who saluted his prelate's insignia.