The Cross Keys is reputedly haunted by at least two ghosts linked to its 17th-century heyday. The first is described as a man in old military attire – likely a soldier from the English Civil War. He’s commonly seen or sensed pacing the corridors, as if still on guard duty. Guests have dubbed him the “Roundhead Officer,” and he tends to appear as a fleeting figure in a cloak or simply as heavy bootsteps in the night. The second spirit is said to be a beautiful woman in a flowing dress, rumored to have been Oliver Cromwell’s secret mistress who accompanied him during the 1647 war council here. Her ghost is more elusive; she’s most often reported in one of the upstairs bedrooms (whispering or a sudden floral perfume in the air) and occasionally seen gazing out of a window. Both ghosts are considered friendly – even protective – with no reports of malicious behavior. These hauntings are well-known enough that a local shopkeeper once matter-of-factly informed curious visitors that “the inn is widely accepted to be haunted by a Civil War ghost”. Indeed, the Cross Keys’ spirits are an ingrained part of Saffron Walden’s folklore, adding an extra layer of intrigue to this historic inn.
Known Ghosts:
Two principal spirits: a **Civil War soldier** (often said to be a Parliamentarian officer) and a **Woman in a long dress** believed to be Oliver Cromwell’s mistress
Regular ghost enthusiasts in Saffron Walden know two hotspots at the Cross Keys: the upstairs corridor and Room 4. The Soldier: Multiple guests have independently reported waking up at night to the sound of footsteps marching along the upstairs hallway, sometimes accompanied by the clinking of metal (like spur or armor noises). One guest opened his door, thinking it was a late-arriving visitor, only to see a faint outline of a man in a broad hat and possibly a breastplate walking down the unlit corridor – then it faded away. The ghost soldier is also blamed for doors opening on their own; staff close up the bar at night, only to find the next morning that an internal door to the stairs is inexplicably ajar (as if he made his nightly rounds). The Lady: The ghostly woman tied to Cromwell is more subtle. A honeymooning couple staying in the alleged “haunted room” (local lore suggests it’s the room Cromwell slept in) experienced a strange incident: they awoke to a translucent lady standing at the foot of the bed, looking sad. She then glided toward the window and disappeared. The couple noted her clothing appeared 17th-century. In another instance, a housekeeper cleaning that same room felt a cold presence and heard a soft sigh near her, which she firmly believes was the lady. She has also been “seen” in the sense of a sudden reflection in a mirror that shouldn’t be there – one guest glimpsed a woman’s figure in the wardrobe mirror behind him, but he was alone. The general consensus is that she’s a gentle soul, perhaps eternally waiting for someone (Cromwell himself?). These richly detailed experiences – repeated in whispers around town – paint a portrait of two ghosts fulfilling their endless duties: one, a soldier patrolling, the other, a lady pining.
