Beaumaris Castle

“Beaumaris Castle, near the eastern shore of Anglesey, is often hailed as the most technically perfect castle in Britain.”

Despite its incomplete state, it stands as a testament to the ambition and architectural prowess of King Edward I's reign.

The Castle’s Story

Beaumaris Castle began as an act of control. It was Edward I’s final stronghold in his infamous Iron Ring of castles built to subdue the Welsh. After defeating Llywelyn ap Gruffudd and forcing English rule on the north, Edward turned his eye to Anglesey. The island had strategic value. Fertile land. Easy access by sea. And too many lingering Welsh loyalties for the king’s liking.

In 1295, following another Welsh uprising, Edward gave orders for a new castle. This time, the plan was grand. No old earthworks to work around. No town to cram within. A fresh start. Beaumaris was the most symmetrical and ambitious of all his castles. Master James of St George, a Savoyard engineer with a knack for concentric fortifications, led the works. His influence shaped the layout with its double walls, wide moat, and geometric precision.

But ambition met reality. Money ran out. Labour dwindled. By 1330, the job halted. The inner walls stood proud, but much of the outer defence, gatehouses and towers, remained incomplete. Unlike Caernarfon or Conwy, Beaumaris never saw battle. Its strength was in potential, never tested.

Even so, the castle had a part to play. It changed hands during the English Civil War when Royalists briefly held it. By the 17th century, it was already a relic. Moss crept in. Stone was scavenged. But its bones held fast.

Today, that unfulfilled vision still commands attention. Beaumaris might never have reached completion, but in design, it outshone the rest. It was a castle drawn by a ruler with no limits—until those limits caught up with him.

Key Moments / Turning Points

1295: The Ground Breaks, and the Tide Turns

Beaumaris rose out of urgency. In 1294, the Welsh rebelled once more. Edward I, worn by war yet relentless, responded as he always did—with stone, force, and authority. Anglesey needed watching. The Welsh had crossed the Menai Strait and bloodied the English garrison. When the rebellion was crushed, Edward's answer was immediate. A new castle, to make sure it never happened again.

They drained the marsh and brought in labourers from across England and beyond. Some were prisoners. Others were conscripted builders with families miles away. For a brief time, progress moved fast. Timber hoardings, stone deliveries, scaffolding clattered in place. Yet from the very start, cracks showed. Logistics on an island were never simple. Getting lime, stone, and food to the site through narrow lanes and a shallow port slowed everything.

1306: The Money Runs Dry

By now, the English treasury had suffered. Campaigns in Scotland drained more gold than expected. Edward’s appetite for conquest outpaced his banker's goodwill. At Beaumaris, work slowed to a crawl. Some walls rose only halfway before tools were dropped for the last time.

Master James of St George, who had lent his genius to Caernarfon and Harlech, admitted defeat. He once said of Beaumaris: “...the castle will be the fairest of all if it is ever finished.” It never was. The western towers remained half-built. The moat, though dug, never got its full defensive stone lining. Only fragments of the outer defences met the plan on paper.

1642–1646: Civil War and a Brief Reawakening

Centuries passed. The castle, largely forgotten, found itself caught up in the English Civil War. Charles I’s forces garrisoned Beaumaris. Its deep moat and high towers offered security on an island otherwise exposed. But it didn’t hold long. The Parliamentarians took Anglesey, and with it, the castle.

After the war, the site saw no more military action. It became a storehouse for local stone. A grazing ground. A reminder. One of the strongest castles in Britain, undone not by war, but by money and time.

Legends and Lore

Beaumaris, though less bloodied by siege than its cousins Caernarfon or Harlech, has still drawn its fair share of ghost stories and local whispers. A castle this size, with empty chambers and echoing passages, practically invites them. And while the hard history speaks of stalled construction and financial strain, the folklore adds shadow and sound.

One tale passed around Anglesey concerns a mason who worked on the early walls. According to the story, he was underpaid and worked to exhaustion. One day, after collapsing near the half-built gatehouse, he cursed the castle. “May no king find peace within its walls. May it always fall short.” The story doesn’t appear in any record, of course, but it’s often cited by local guides. A romantic explanation, perhaps, for why the castle never reached completion.

Some say the moat holds more than just stagnant water. In the right conditions—fog rising off the strait, wind curling through the tower loops—visitors have claimed to hear chanting. Monastic voices, low and rhythmic. There’s no solid reason monks would haunt the place. But the tale lingers. Some link it to nearby Llanfaes Priory, dissolved during the Reformation, its remains scattered. Others think it's just the acoustics of the thick walls playing tricks.

As with most castles in Britain, there is a Lady. At Beaumaris, she’s seen near the chapel in the inner ward. Pale, silent, always at a distance. Some say she was a noblewoman who took refuge during the uprising of 1294, only to be trapped when Edward’s forces arrived. Others say she’s the wife of a stonemason, watching forever from the shadows as he worked himself into an early grave. She never speaks. She vanishes if approached. And of course, no one has caught her on camera.

Beaumaris does not wear its ghosts on its sleeve. It doesn’t need to. The stillness of the place, the half-finished towers, the way mist pools over the moat—all of it builds a quiet, unsettled kind of atmosphere. If ghosts live anywhere, they’d choose a castle like this.

Architecture & Features

Beaumaris Castle is a masterclass in symmetry and precision. Even unfinished, it remains a near-perfect example of concentric design—walls within walls, each layer built to support and shield the next. It wasn’t just about brute defence. This was architecture shaped by intelligence and strategy.

The outer curtain wall is low but wide, with a clean line of round towers and arrow loops that offer overlapping fields of fire. Within that sits a taller, inner wall reinforced by six massive towers and two powerful gatehouses. The layout means attackers would face not one barrier, but two, and defenders could retreat from the outer to the inner without ever losing control.

Twin D-shaped gatehouses, east and west, were designed as the strongholds of the design. They were fitted with murder holes, portcullises and defended chambers where boiling oil or heavy stones could be dropped on the heads of invaders. Though never finished in full detail, you can still walk their shell and imagine the choke-points they would have created.

Then there’s the moat. Dug directly from the sea, it forms a wide ring around the outer walls. Fed by the nearby Menai Strait, it’s tidal, giving the castle a connection to the water unlike most inland strongholds. In its day, it allowed supplies to come in by barge and prevented easy assault. The idea was smart—starve the castle and you might just run out of patience before they ran out of food.

Inside, the central ward was meant to hold the domestic buildings—barracks, a chapel, halls, storage. Some were built, others marked only by foundations. The chapel remains one of the most atmospheric spots: a narrow, vaulted space with thick stone walls that hush sound and chill the air.

The walls still bear the scars of time. Gaps where towers were never finished. Stairwells that go nowhere. But the strength of the design is clear. Every line, every chamber, speaks of order and control. James of St George knew what he was doing. His plan, had it been completed, would have left Britain with an unrivalled example of medieval military engineering.

Modern Access / Preservation

Today, Beaumaris Castle is managed by Cadw, the Welsh Government’s historic environment service. Its role has shifted from fortress to heritage site. Though unfinished, the structure remains stable and remarkably intact for its age. Preservation work has focused on making the castle safe and accessible while retaining its original character.

The castle faced serious threats from nature in the 20th century. The moat, once its proud defensive ring, had become choked with silt and weeds. In the 1920s and again in the 1980s, major dredging projects helped restore it. Drains were installed. The tide now flows through the moat again, reviving one of its most distinctive features.

Inside, conservation efforts have focused on keeping the walls sound. Stonework has been repointed with lime mortar to prevent water damage. Wooden walkways and metal staircases have been added where original steps are too worn or missing. These changes make it easier for visitors to explore, but they’re kept deliberately minimal. The aim is to preserve the atmosphere, not modernise it.

Cadw also runs occasional tours and events on site, especially in the summer. Re-enactments, living history weekends, and guided walks help bring the empty walls to life. But most of the time, Beaumaris is quiet. There’s no flashy visitor centre or high-tech displays. Just information boards, the sea breeze, and the sound of your own footsteps on stone.

Local groups, including the Beaumaris Town Council and Anglesey history societies, have also pushed to keep the castle in good condition. In recent years, there’s been talk of using drones to map the entire site, capturing even the hidden recesses between tower loops and arrow slits. That kind of technology is useful, but the castle’s draw remains physical. You have to walk it to understand it.

Despite its incomplete state—or perhaps because of it—Beaumaris offers something rare. A pure design, untouched by later additions. No Renaissance windows. No Georgian modifications. Just Edwardian ambition, frozen mid-build. It stands not as a ruin, but as a plan in stone. An echo of what might have been.

Visiting Today

Beaumaris Castle is open year-round and easy to find, right on the edge of the town of Beaumaris, with the Menai Strait just beyond the moat. The location is ideal if you're exploring Anglesey or coming over from Bangor. There’s parking nearby, though it fills quickly in summer, and the castle sits just a short walk from cafés, shops and the town’s small pier.

Entry is through the original gatehouse. Cadw staff are usually on hand to answer questions, and they keep things practical rather than polished. You’ll get a solid introduction to the castle's story, but the real appeal is in the wandering. You can walk the wall walks, duck through archways, climb towers, and get lost in the symmetry of it all.

The views from the walls are something special. On one side, you’ll see the Strait stretching across to Snowdonia’s peaks. On the other, the neat rows of Georgian houses that make up Beaumaris town. The contrast makes it clear just how long this fortress has stood, outlasting every age around it.

Facilities are minimal, but that’s part of the appeal. There are toilets and a small shop, mostly selling local books, toys and Cadw memorabilia. But there’s no glossy visitor complex. The castle remains the centrepiece.

Accessibility is fair. Many of the ground-level paths are flat and wide. However, most of the towers and upper walkways are only reachable by steep, narrow steps. Cadw has made improvements, but as with all medieval sites, not everything can be altered.

For families, the site offers plenty of space to explore and imagine. Children tend to love the echoes in the towers and the chance to play pretend sieges. Dogs on leads are welcome, which makes it a rare spot for those travelling with pets. It’s also a favourite for amateur photographers. Early morning or late afternoon light catches the sandstone beautifully, especially when mist rolls off the water.

If you’re planning a wider tour of Edward I’s castles, Beaumaris makes a fine companion to Caernarfon, Harlech and Conwy. But unlike those, it’s quieter. Less crowded. There’s room to breathe and take it in without queues or bustle.

References

• Taylor, A. J. The Welsh Castles of Edward I. The Hambledon Press, 1986.

• Cadw official site: Beaumaris Castle

• Pounds, N. J. G. The Medieval Castle in England and Wales: A Social and Political History. Cambridge University Press, 1994.

• Gravett, Christopher. Edward I and the Conquest of Wales. Osprey Publishing, 2007.

• Robinson, David M. The Castles of Edward I in Wales 1277–1307. Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 1992.

• YouTube – Beaumaris Castle: The Unfinished Masterpiece of Edward I's Iron Ring source