Welcome to Noble Blood, a production of I Heart Radio and Grim and Mylt from Aaron

Manky.

Listener discretion is advised.

Henry VIII died in 1547.

Obees and ulcered, one leg still rotting from a bad fall of a horse decades earlier.

After his corpse was embalmed and spiced, it lay in state in the present chamber of

Whitehall, surrounded by burning taper candles.

And then, two weeks later, the slow procession to his burial site began.

A carriage followed by hundreds of men on horseback.

The carriage itself was massive, elaborate and tall, pulled by eight horses, each ridden

by a child.

On top of the hers, in full view of the public that had come out onto the streets to say

goodbye to their king, was an effigy made of wax and wood, meant to resemble the king

in his more handsome days.

The effigy were satan and velvet and jewels, with rings dotting its gloved hands.

It wore a crown.

But when King Henry's procession finally reached its destination, St. George's Chapel at

Windsor Castle, his tomb wasn't gilded or flanked by sculptures, the type of pomp you would

expect for the final resting place of a man who saw himself as a dynastic hero, the champion

of England, chosen by God to lead their church and their nation.

That was the tomb he had wanted for himself, when he had described early in his life, a

double tomb with effigies in marble, carved angels on the wall and profits perched on

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