nst him, for he had already begun to be unpopular with the people,
he would raise his eyes and direct a withering glance at the hardy
speaker. But these expressions were few, for, though tottering, Wolsey
was yet too formidable to be insulted with impunity. On either side of
him were two mounted attend ants, each caring a gilt poleaxe, who, if he
had given the word, would have instantly chastised the insolence of
the bystanders, while behind him rode his two cross-bearers upon homes
trapped in scarlet.

Wolsey's princely retinue was followed by a litter of crimson velvet, in
which lay the pope's legate, Cardinal Campeggio, whose infirmities
were so great that he could not move without assistance. Campeggio was
likewise attended by a numerous train.

After a long line of lords, knights, and esquires, came Henry the
Eighth. He was apparelled in a robe of crimson velvet furred with
ermines, and wore a doublet of raised gold, the placard of which was
embroidered with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, large pearls, and other
precious stones. About his neck was a baldric of balas rubies, and over
his robe he wore the collar of the Order of the Garter. His horse, a
charger of the largest size, and well able to sustain his vast weight,
was trapped in crimson velvet, purfled with ermines. His knights and
esquires were clothed in purple velvet, and his henchmen in scarlet
tunics of the same make as those worn by the warders of the Tower at the
present day.

Henry was in his thirty-eighth year, and though somewhat overgrown and
heavy, had lost none of his activity, and but little of the grace of his
noble proportions. His size and breadth of limb were well displayed in
his magnificent habiliment. His countenance was handsome and manly, with
a certain broad burly look, thoroughly English in its character, which
won him much admiration from his subjects; and though it might be
objected that the eyes were too small, and the mouth somewhat too
diminutive, it could not be denied that the general expression of the
face was kingly in the extreme. A prince of a more "royal presence"
than Henry the Eighth was never seen, and though he had many and grave
faults, want of dignity was not amongst the number.

Henry entered Windsor amid the acclamations of the spectators, the
fanfares of trumpeters, and the roar of ordnance from the castle walls.

Meanwhile, Anne Boleyn, having descended from her litter, which passed
through the gate into the lo