Though de Montfort was not canonised as a saint and martyr, yet he appears to have been regarded in such a light by the common people, and among the archives of the Monastery was preserved a long list of accredited cures and miracles reported to have been worked at his tomb.
It was on the morning of Tuesday, August 4th, 1265, that the memorable battle, ending in the death of Simon de Montfort, was fought. Earl Simon was travelling on the previous day from the neighbourhood of Worcester to join his eldest son, also named Simon, at Kenilworth. With the Earl was King Henry the Third as prisoner or hostage, and on the night of Monday, the 3rd of August, the Earl and his retinue were received as guests in the Abbey, his army being quartered or encamping in the town.
Prince Edward, King Henry's eldest son, was in the neighbourhood with a large army, but his movements for some days past were unknown to de Montfort. On the Saturday before the arrival of the Barons' army at Evesham the Prince had surprised the younger Simon at Kenilworth, killed or taken as prisoners the greater part of his army, and seized all the baggage and standards. The same day he had returned to Worcester and joined the Earl of Gloucester and Roger Mortimer, both leading considerable forces.
Thus we see the Earl, with his adherents, resting at Evesham, unconscious of the fact that, unaided, he must soon face three powerful foes. Next day saw his fate decided.
Early on Tuesday morning all was stir and bustle in the Monastery and in the little town. The troops were preparing to depart at daybreak towards Kenilworth, where father and son were to meet and arrange their future tactics. In the early dawn Nicholas, the Earl's barber, ascended one of the towers of the Abbey, and, gazing northwards, over Green Hill he descried soldiers bearing standards which were evidently those of the younger Simon. For a few moments joy prevailed at the thought of so happy a meeting; but this feeling soon gave place to anxiety and dread. Closer examination showed that though the standards were those of the Earl's son the soldiers who carried them were not Simon's but Prince Edward's followers. In a moment all was clear: the younger Simon had been defeated, perhaps slain, and de Montfort must fight single-handed or yield his cause ingloriously. Retreat over the bridge by which the army had entered the town was useless, for soon it became known that Roger Mortimer was following the route the barons had taken the day before, and would soon be on their rear. With the river on both sides of them, and both ways blocked by enemies, two alternatives alone presented themselves, to fight or to yield. To add to the hopelessness of their position the Earl of Gloucester, with his army, was now joining Prince Edward by the upper Worcester road. De Montfort knew that against such odds the fight would be a hopeless one, and urged his supporters to flee while there was yet time, and not to lose their lives in an unavailing struggle; but none would desert their leader in the hour of peril. "Then," exclaimed the Earl, "may the Lord have mercy on our souls for our bodies are in the power of our enemies."
It is recorded that on this fatal Tuesday all the elements seemed to unite in adding horror to the scene of carnage. Shortly before this a great comet had made men fear and wonder; and now, on this morning the sky was overcast with such dense clouds that the land was in darkness; so black were the heavens that nothing like it had been known within the memory of man. A violent tempest, with a deluge of rain and terrific thunder and lightning, swept over the country. The terrified monks could not see their books as they chanted the Psalms in the darkened choir, and as they sat in the refectory they could not tell what food lay upon their trenchers.
Meanwhile the battle raged on the hill above the town; desperately the barons fought, but, one by one, they fell overpowered by numbers. Though the earl was sixty-five years of age he fought "stoutly, like a giant, for the liberties of England" to the end.
We will not dwell on the horror of the battle. Popular tradition still points to the spot where the great leader was slain, and there, beside a spring called Battlewell, was placed a sacred rood. Two young de Montforts fell by their father's side, and many barons, knights, and common soldiers; but few fled. The stragglers from the defeated army were, many of them, slaughtered, as they attempted their escape; and by Offenham Ferry, where in those times probably stood a bridge, there is a meadow, once an island, which to this day bears the name of "Deadman's Ait." The chroniclers tell of the shameful mutilation of the earl's corpse, and how the limbs were distributed through the country, but the dismembered body was buried reverently by the monks in the most sacred part of their church, even before the High Altar. The severed hands were sent by a servant to the wife of Roger Mortimer, at Wigmore Castle in Shropshire. They arrived, so says the legend, while the Mass was being celebrated, and, at the raising of the Host, they were seen, before the bag containing them was opened, clasped in the attitude of prayer above the head of the messenger. In fear and trembling, Lady Mortimer returned the bloody trophy.
Prince Edward himself attended the funeral of Henry de Montfort, his cousin and friend, in the Abbey church.