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