Pembroke Castle

Start with the stone under your feet. It is cool, uneven, and worn smooth in places by centuries of boots. Around you, the walls rise in shades of grey and soft gold. Gulls call from the river below. On a damp morning, the air smells of salt and wet limestone. This is Pembroke Castle, and it sits on a rocky ridge with water on almost every side.

That position is the first thing to understand. The castle stands on a headland above the Pembroke River, a tidal arm of the great Milford Haven waterway. When the tide is in, the water presses close against the rock. When it drops, mud and reeds appear. For a medieval builder, this was close to perfect. An attacker had very few easy ways in. Most of the effort went into defending the landward side, the side facing the town.

The story begins in the late eleventh century. In 1093, Norman lords were pushing west into Wales, and Arnulf de Montgomery raised a fortress here. It was not the stone castle you see today. It was earth and timber — banks, ditches, and wooden palisades. Even so, it held. During Welsh uprisings in the years that followed, the garrison under Gerald of Windsor resisted a hard siege. Pembroke became known as a stronghold that the Welsh never captured.

The great change came around 1200, with William Marshal. He was one of the most famous knights of medieval England. He served several kings, and his loyalty and skill in tournaments became legend. Through marriage, he became Earl of Pembroke. He had the money and the ambition to rebuild in stone. The great round tower in the inner ward is his work, and it is the heart of the castle.

Look up at that tower now. It is the keep — the last line of defence, the place to retreat if every other wall fell. Round towers were a new idea at the time. A square corner can be undermined or battered more easily. A curved wall spreads the force of an attack. The walls at the base are very thick, and the tower rises several storeys high. Here is a detail many visitors miss: the top is closed by a stone dome, not a timber roof.

If you climb the spiral stairs inside, take your time. The steps are narrow and they turn tightly. Each floor once had a timber floor, and you can still see the holes and ledges where beams rested. From the top, the view opens over the town, the river, and the green Pembrokeshire countryside. On a clear day, you can understand why the Marshals chose this spot. Nothing moved on the water without being seen.

Now for the second surprise, and it is under your feet. Below the castle lies a large natural cave called the Wogan Cavern. Visitors reach it by a stone staircase from the hall above. Inside, the air is cold and still, and the light is dim. Archaeologists have found evidence that people used this cave long before any castle stood here — far back into prehistory. The medieval builders closed its river mouth with a wall, and may have used it as a store or a boat landing.

In 1457, a baby was born inside these walls. His mother was Margaret Beaufort, and she was only thirteen years old. Her husband, Edmund Tudor, had died a few months earlier. The child was Henry Tudor. Twenty-eight years later, he won the Battle of Bosworth and became King Henry the Seventh. He was the first Tudor king. His son was Henry the Eighth, and his granddaughter was Elizabeth the First. A whole royal dynasty began in this quiet Welsh castle.

The castle's hardest test came in the seventeenth century, during the English Civil War. In 1648, local commanders who had once supported Parliament changed sides and declared for the King. Among them was John Poyer, the mayor of Pembroke. Oliver Cromwell himself came to besiege the town and castle. The defenders held out for about seven weeks. One popular local tale says the castle fell after someone revealed where its water supply ran. Treat that story with some caution — it is told often, but the details vary.

After the surrender, Cromwell ordered the defences to be made useless, a process called slighting. Parts of the walls and towers were blown open so the castle could never be held against Parliament again. Poyer and his fellow leaders were taken to London. According to the accounts, they were made to draw lots, and Poyer was executed in 1649. The castle then slowly fell into ruin. For a long time, local people took its stone for their own buildings.

So why does it look so complete today? The answer is restoration in the twentieth century. From the late 1920s, the castle's owner, Major-General Sir Ivor Philipps, began major repair work. Walls were rebuilt, towers were roofed, and the gatehouse was put back into shape. Some purists argue about how much was restored. But that work is the reason you can walk the wall walks and climb the towers now. As you explore, look for changes in the stone. Newer repairs often look cleaner and more even than the medieval masonry.

Take a moment in the great gatehouse as you pass through. Medieval gatehouses were deadly places for an attacker. There were heavy gates, a portcullis — a grid of iron and timber that dropped from above — and openings in the ceiling. Defenders could drop stones or shoot down on anyone trapped between the gates. Look for the narrow arrow slits in the walls around you. From inside, they widen so an archer could aim. From outside, they look like thin cracks.

Before you leave, walk out along the riverside path below the walls. From there, the whole castle stands up on its rock, with the round keep rising above the curtain wall. Notice the water, the mill pond, and the town's single long main street running away to the east. Listen to the gulls again, and the soft lap of the tide. Nine hundred years of soldiers, earls, and townspeople stood where you are standing now... and the stone is still here, cool and grey, holding its ground.