Misfortune now pressed on misfortune; and the last anchor of his hope was broken by the defeat of his son Simon of Montfort. That young nobleman was employed in the siege of Pevensey, on the coast of Sussex, when he received the King's writ to repair to Worcester. On his march he sacked the city of Winchester, the gates of which had been shut against him, passed peaceably through Oxford, and reached the castle of Kenilworth, the principal residence of his family. Here he remained for some days in heedless security, awaiting the orders of his father. Margot, a woman who in male attire performed the office of a spy, informed the Prince that Simon lay in the priory, and his followers in the neighboring farmhouses. Edward immediately formed the design of surprising them in their beds; and marching from Worcester in the evening, arrived at Kenilworth about sunrise the next morning. Twelve bannerets with all their followers were made prisoners; and their horses and treasures repaid the industry of the captors. Simon alone with his pages escaped naked into the castle. Leicester on the same day had crossed the Severn by a ford, and halted at Kempsey, about three miles from Worcester. Happy to find himself at last on the left bank of the river, and ignorant of the fate of his son and the motions of the enemy, he proceeded to Evesham, with the intention of continuing his march the next morning for Kenilworth. The Prince had returned with his prisoners to Worcester, but left the city in the evening, and, to mask his real design, took the road which leads to Bridgenorth. He passed the river near Clains, and, wheeling to the right, arrived before sunrise in the neighborhood of Evesham. He took his station on the summit of a hill in the direction of Kenilworth; two other divisions, under the Earl of Gloucester and Roger de Mortimer, occupied the remaining roads. As the royalists bore the banners of their captives, they were taken by the enemy for the army of Simon de Montfort. But the mistake was soon discovered. Leicester, from an eminence, surveyed their numbers and disposition, and was heard to exclaim, "The Lord have mercy on our souls, for our bodies are Prince Edward's." According to his custom he spent some time in prayer, and received the sacrament. His first object was to force his way through the division on the hill. Foiled in this attempt, and in danger of being surrounded, he ordered his men to form a circle, and oppose on all sides the pressure of the enemy. For a while the courage of despair proved a match for the superiority of numbers. The old King, who had been compelled to appear in the ranks, was slightly wounded, and as he fell from his horse would probably have been killed had he not cried out to his antagonist, "Hold, fellow! I am Harry of Winchester." The Prince knew the voice of his father, sprang to his rescue, and conducted him to a place of safety. During his absence Leicester's horse was killed under him; and, as he