"Behead her!" roared a voice in the crowd, and thousands of voices joined in the cry.
The priest dragged her to the block and laid her neck in the hollow of it. There was a flash of steel in the sunlight, and the beautiful head rolled into the basket. The next moment it was being held aloft by the long, lovely hair, the people below yelling with joy.
At a sign from the priest, the bugler sounded for "silence." Then the priest cried:
"So shall die every rebel against our LORD GOD, The Emperor!"
With a wave of his hand towards the Cathedral behind him, he added:
"Our worship will be continued in our Temple and, for today, at least, worship will continue all day."
The fools, the dupes, flocked back to the cathedral—as many as could crowd in. Those who could not get in watched the bodies and heads of the three martyrs for God hurled down from the scaffold on the stones below.
Someone suggested the river, and six lengths of line were quickly got, and amid the howls of mingled execrations, and the notes of a fiendish joy, the three heads and three trunks were dragged down to the blackfriars end of the embankment.
Here men cut the clothes from the three bodies, and the naked forms were kicked into almost shapeless masses, before they were eventually hurled over the embankment into the swirling muddy Thames.
"He, (The False Prophet) had power … to cause that as many as would not worship the image of the Beast should be killed."