ECHOES OF EDGEHILL

THE THUNDER OF CHARGING CAVALRY AND THE ROAR OF ARTILLERY
ARE GONE, BUT FROM THE NOW-PEACEFUL RIDGE WHERE KING CHARLES I
ONCE STOOD, A LITTLE IMAGINATION CAN CARRY YOU ALL THE WAY BACK
TO THE STORMY DAYS OF THE ENGLISH CIVIL WAR

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BY DAVID KINCHIN

If hilltops could tell tales, what stories would be told in the area of Edgehill? The countryside stands quiet today. The only sounds come from isolated juggernauts struggling along the B4100 road to Banbury or the rustle of leaves in summer breezes. In essence, however, the area around Edgehill has changed very little.

Some of the land has naturally been put to different uses over the years; it would be most unusual if that were not so. The army now perpetually occupies the land once fought over by the combatants of the 17th century. It is as if, having contested this spot so fiercely, the soldiers are now unwilling to leave. In the centre of the battlefield, large white boards prescribe the limits of access to the average walker. Land that appears to be simply grazing pasture is not open for the casual walker without prior permission.

The site of the battle lies between the small community of Kineton to the North and the hamlet of Radway to the south. During one of my visits, on 23rd October, 1991, Kineton was fighting another kind of battle. Trucks and digging machines bent on upgrading the local roads and pathways laid siege to the town. Kineton appeared to struggle against the advances of 20th century man in much the same way that some 350 years earlier it had struggled to fight off Prince Rupert and his Royalist cavalry. It was heavily overwhelmed on both occasions.

Radway basks in the apparent safety of Edgehill, clinging to the base of the steeply rising ridge of jurassic sandstone. The original church is gone, to be replaced by a larger, rather stark building that contains a wonderful memorial tablet at the base of its bell tower. The tablet commemorates Captain Henry Kingsmill, who died during the early stages of the fighting. He was one of the 3,000 men killed during the day. This Church of St Peter, built in 1866, has an uncomplicated beauty, its exterior devoid of any obvious elaboration. The style, no doubt, would have pleased Oliver Cromwell, warts and all.

The village contains plenty of old buildings that encourage your mind to wander backwards in time and imagine the scene as it may have been long ago. There is, if you can find it, a monument to the battle. An unassuming stone pillar, less than six feet tall, stands at the side of the B4100. Around it, on each anniversary, visitors place a handful of floral tributes, each with a thought-provoking message. Most are from people descended from a soldier who fought in the battle, or from present-day soldiers whose regiments have a place in this history. On my first visit I noticed a wreath left by a man convinced that he had fought in the battle during a previous life, and had lost valued friends.

For people with no local knowledge of the battle site, this memorial is the only sign that the event took place. Battleton Holt, a small woodland at the very centre of the battlefield, can only be entered with the permission of the army. Around the edges of the battlefield, life continues: sheep graze on the farm land, barbed-wire encircles whatever it is that the army keenly protects, and the breezes stir the arms of chestnut and hawthorn trees that grow in profusion in the locality. A cottage being re-thatched provided me with an especially strong sense of this classic rural setting’s continuity with the past.

The landscape between Radway and Kineton is remarkable uniform. Although the level plain, known locally as the Vale of the Red Horse, stretches out on either side of the battle area, a strange, slightly claustrophobic sensation drifts over the lone walker. I found this paradox quite inexplicable, but the sensation was unmistakable.

In such an atmosphere it is not difficult to picture 15,000 Royalists gathered on the hill to the south of Radway, and facing them, (350 feet lower) an estimated 15,000 Parliamentarians. A total of 30,000 men, each with their own thoughts, their own fears and their own loved ones. That number is equivalent to the entire male population of Gloucester today!

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