As the
people stood gazing at the blood which flowed from the king's
coffin, two dogs sprang forth from the crowd and, with greedy
tongue, licked the blood of King Henry the Eighth. But the people,
shuddering and horror-stricken, fled in all directions, and talked
among themselves of the poor priest who a few weeks before was
executed here on this very spot, because he would not recognize the
king as the supreme lord of the Church and God's vicegerent; of that
unfortunate man who cursed the king, and on the scaffold said: "May
the dogs one day drink the blood of this king who has shed so much
innocent blood!" And now the curse of the dying man had found its
fulfilment, and the dogs had drunk the king's blood. [Footnote:
Historical.--See Tytler, p. 481.]
When the gloomy funeral train had left the palace of Whitehall, when
the king's corpse no longer infected the halls with its awful stench
of corruption, and the court was preparing to do homage to the boy
Edward as the new king, Thomas Seymour, Earl of Sudley, entered the
room of the young royal widow. He came in a magnificent mourning
suit, and his elder brother, Edward Seymour, and Cranmer, archbishop
of Canterbury, walked by his side.
With a blush and a sweet smile, Catharine bade them welcome.
"Queen," said Thomas Seymour with solemn air, "I come to-day to
claim of you the fulfilment of your vow! Oh, do not cast down your
eyes, nor blush for shame. The noble archbishop knows your heart,
and he knows that it is as pure as the heart of a maiden, and that
an unchaste thought has never sullied your pure soul.
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