Built in the 13th century by the Barretts, this once formidable stronghold controlled a strategic position where the Moy meets its tributary, the Brusna. The castle’s turbulent history saw it change hands repeatedly; disputed between the Barretts and Burkes throughout the 15th century, eventually seized by Walter Kittage Bourke in 1584, then lost to English forces who garrisoned it, only to be reclaimed by Bourke in 1595. By 1630, ownership had passed to Sir William Fenton, and the castle continued its pattern of changing allegiances through the succeeding centuries.

Today, visitors won’t find romantic ruins or crumbling battlements. Instead, what remains is far more subtle: a three storey, stone built tower cleverly incorporated into the eastern end of a 19th century stable block, about 30 metres from Ballina House. When Catholic magistrate Edward Howley built his grand house here in the 1830s, locals could still point to considerable castle ruins, but these have since vanished entirely. The surviving tower, measuring roughly 6 metres north to south, has been so thoroughly modified that its medieval origins are barely recognisable; its walls rendered over, modern windows punched through ancient stonework, and its upper levels absorbed into the Victorian farm buildings.

The ground floor reveals the most tantalising glimpse of the past, where a small vaulted chamber lined with red brick can be accessed through a doorway in the north wall. Original limestone blocks are visible at the base of the eastern wall, mere metres from the river’s edge, whilst the western wall disappears into the terrace slope. South of the tower, a deteriorating stone revetment, partly collapsed and choked with ivy, extends for about 14 metres along the terrace base, perhaps marking the castle’s original footprint. It’s a peculiar sort of preservation; the medieval fortress lives on not as a monument but as the bones of a working stable yard, its martial past thoroughly domesticated yet stubbornly persistent.