In search of Britain's most important – and elusive

Telegraph

14-06-2025

Naseby does not look ready for a fight. On a warm Saturday morning, this genteel Northamptonshire village is a picture of rural calm. The tower of the Grade II*-listed All Saints' Church is casting an angular shadow in the early light, and the Royal Oak pub is yet to open its door to those who would sharpen their weekend with a pint of English ale.
The atmosphere would have been rather different 380 years ago. Then, in the mists of the mid-17th century, there would have been red-coated men massing on the north side of the village, a clank of weapons being checked, a stamping and snorting of horses under rein.
And, perhaps too, a sense of being on the precipice of history.
On June 14 1645, Naseby witnessed one of the most important battles in British history. You might even stretch this superlative to wider European and global history. In the dawn hours of that crisp summer day, Charles I was still – relatively – ensconced on the English throne.
By the afternoon, he was halfway to the executioner's block, Oliver Cromwell was well on his way to power, and the country had taken a colossal leap towards fully fledged parliamentary democracy.
Back in the tranquility of 2025, down at Naseby Village Hall, Richard Brinkman is more than happy to shatter the rustic peace by talking of war. So is the tour group – some 15 of us – gathered in an upper room overlooking the football pitch. Maps are spread out, diagrams of troop manoeuvres are pinned to the walls – and the small audience is all ears.
'The English Civil War was, well, very uncivil,' Brinkman says, pithily. 'It killed seven per cent of the population. To put that into context, the equivalent figure for the First World War was three per cent.'
A fair few of those who went to their graves did so at Naseby. There were over 1,000 Royalist casualties on June 14 1645. And around 400 men from Parliament's freshly assembled New Model Army – which operated under the leadership of Cromwell and the experienced military campaigner Sir Thomas Fairfax – also met their maker.
But the butchery was most damaging to the king's cause. By the battle's end, Charles's ability to field a proper fighting force – and any realistic chance of triumph in a conflict that had erupted from the collapse of the relationship between the crown and the Commons – had vanished.
It was quite the collision; a clash of ideals, beliefs and principles, as well as swords. And it is well worth further investigation in the present. Richard Brinkman is one of several guides who devote time to the Naseby Battlefield Project (NBP) – the historical society, set up in 2007, whose tours are the best way to gain an understanding of what happened.
Over the course of the morning, in a short convoy of cars (the entire theatre of action is almost five miles in breadth), we head out to chart the events of that destructive day at four key hotspots. Fairfax's View, directly north-east of Naseby, occupies the hilltop from which the wily Parliamentarian general appraised his enemy, concealing some of his much larger force behind the ridge line so as to disguise a numerical advantage that might have dissuaded the Royalists from fighting
By contrast, Prince Rupert's Viewpoint lurks at the opposite end of the battlefield, gazing south-west from a position some four miles away, in the direction of Market Harborough.
Rupert of the Rhine was both Charles's nephew and his foremost asset; 'the fighter jet of his era,' Brinkman says of an immensely gifted young commander (Rupert was 25 in June 1645) who had learnt his craft amid the cut and thrust of the Thirty Years' War (1618-1648), which was still raging across continental Europe.
But he was also hot-headed; a character flaw that would see him charge headlong into the fray that morning – and then charge right out of it again, leading his cavalry on a mission towards the Parliamentarian rear in search of familiar foes espied, and scores he wished to settle. His impetuosity would have big consequences – leaving the royal infantry badly exposed.
These poor souls would meet their fate on the slope below modern-day Naseby's postcard landmark – the Cromwell Monument, an obelisk that was unveiled at the top of the field in 1936. Here, slaughter occurred; slaughter so vicious that the war might have ended that day.
Watching the carnage unfold from the other side of the field, Charles readied himself to sally forth – only to be stopped by Scottish nobleman the Earl of Carnwath, who seized the royal bridle and asked: 'Would you go upon your death, sire?'. The king escaped, and would fight on for nearly two years – but the initiative lost at Naseby was never regained.
These three key locations are all signposted, and open to the public. A fourth, hidden at the back of a farm, is all but inaccessible without a tour. But when we arrive at Sulby Hedges, we are hailed, from afar, by Alan Larsen – a professional re-enactor, who blasts a pistol as he rounds the corner of the field, dressed as a Parliamentarian dragoon (mounted infantry).
'I trust I have your attention?' he enquires, as the smoke dissipates – before launching into a treatise on this out-of-the-way location's relevance. Sulby Hedges, he explains, was the spot where the two armies first engaged; a sudden exchange of fire which triggered the battle. In further demonstration, Larsen proceeds to load and shoot a musket (while maintaining his balance in the saddle).
For all its significance, the Battle of Naseby can be difficult to trace in the fields where so many came to grief. A good deal of the problem is that much of the battle-site is fenced off as private land.
When I meet him for a coffee, local historian Peter Burton expresses his frustration that there is not more for tourists to see. Unlike Bannockburn or Hastings, Naseby does not have a dedicated visitor centre. A suitable plot was purchased as long ago as 2009, and planning permission was granted in 2011, but the funding (roughly £300,000) could not be raised.
A fall-back plan to install a museum at All Saints' Church also came to nothing. The latest suggestion is to give the area a higher profile by denoting it as a country park.
Nonetheless, the sphere of action was so vast – with the remains of the royal army fleeing north towards Market Harborough, its baggage train scattering and the king's private papers seized – that it is strangely easy to trip over somewhere (or something) pertinent.
The neighbouring village of Sibbertoft, three miles north of Naseby, is a case in point. Its fields were in harm's way as the New Model Army took aim at the fleeing royalists' backs. So much so that musket balls have been an ongoing threat to the machinery at Brook Meadow farm for over a century.
Owner Jasper Hart proudly shows me his collection of 17th-century shrapnel and lead shot, all unearthed on his land, or prised from the tyres of his tractor. His daughter Claire, meanwhile, manages the farm's accommodation – a trio of luxury chalets built overlooking a lake where, when I check in, Northamptonshire anglers are passing the afternoon in studious contemplation.
Woodpecker, the newest chalet, is a splendid place to spend a night; a viewpoint every bit as illustrative as Fairfax's or Rupert's – albeit onto the beauty of the English countryside rather than the movements of an ideological foe. When I wake the next day, a haze is hanging over the lake. Somewhere beyond the farm, I hear the crack of a rifle, and a shout.
Clay-pigeon shooting it may be, but in the uneasy light, I can half believe it might be Oliver Cromwell himself, back to stride the scene of his greatest hour.
Visiting there
The Naseby Battlefield Project offers regular guided tours of the battle-site. Eleven tours are still in the diary for 2025 (the next on June 22, the last on December 7), priced at £25 per person. Participants require access to a car.
The NBP is also hosting a 380th anniversary event today (June 14) – including a battle re-enactment (free; cars £10).
Staying there