This ivy-covered tower has been quietly crumbling since at least 1574, when records show it belonged to one Walter fitz Ab fitz Ed; a name that perfectly captures the complex genealogies of medieval Ireland. Today, only fragments remain of what was once a formidable defensive structure, with just the northeast wall stretching 9.4 metres and partial returns of the adjoining walls surviving to three storeys in height.

The castle’s architectural details reveal its defensive purpose and the daily life of its inhabitants. A pointed arch doorway in the northeast wall leads visitors into a small lobby, which would have served as the first line of defence. To the north lies what was once the guardroom, whilst the southern side houses the remnants of a spiral staircase, now just a shell of its former self. The first floor contains an intramural chamber built directly into the northeast wall; a common feature in Irish tower houses that provided additional living or storage space without compromising the structure’s defensive capabilities.

The windows tell their own story of changing times and military technology. Most are simple rectangular or round-headed slits, designed to let in minimal light whilst keeping attackers at bay. More intriguingly, a gun loop sits beneath one window in the southeast wall, marking the transition from medieval to early modern warfare when firearms began replacing arrows. An apparent ogee-headed window in the northeast wall hints at attempts to make the castle more comfortable during peaceful times, as this Gothic style was often used for decorative rather than defensive purposes. Though no evidence of vaulting survives, the castle’s remaining features paint a vivid picture of a once-important fortification now slowly being reclaimed by nature.