Goodrich Castle

Listen first. A breeze moves through empty window openings. Jackdaws call from the high stonework. Underfoot, the path is gritty and faintly red. The rock beneath this castle is red sandstone, and the walls rise straight out of it. In the right light, the whole ruin glows a warm rust colour, as if it grew from the hill rather than being built on top of it.

Welcome to Goodrich Castle. It stands on a rocky ridge above the River Wye, a few kilometres from Ross-on-Wye. This is border country. Wales lies only a short ride to the west. For centuries, whoever held this crossing of the Wye held something valuable. That simple fact of geography explains most of what you are about to see.

The name itself carries a clue. Early records speak of Godric's Castle. Godric was a local landholder in the years after the Norman Conquest of 1066. Little is known about him as a person. His first fortification was probably built of earth and timber. Nothing obvious of it survives. But his name stayed with the place, and almost a thousand years later, it is still on the signposts.

Now look for the oldest part still standing. It is the small, square keep at the heart of the castle. A keep is the central tower, the last refuge if the outer walls fell. This one dates from the twelfth century. Notice that its stone is different. It is greyer, almost greenish, against the red of everything around it. The builders used a different stone for this first tower, and the contrast still shows today.

The keep looks modest, and that is the surprise. Later lords built huge towers around it, yet they never pulled it down. Instead, they wrapped a bigger, stronger castle around this small Norman core. Stand near it and look up. You can see narrow windows and the outline of its upper floors. It feels compact, defensive, and practical, which is exactly what it was meant to be.

Most of what surrounds you came later, in the late thirteenth century. The great rebuilding is linked to William de Valence, a half-brother of King Henry the Third. He had money, ambition, and royal connections. He turned Goodrich into a powerful fortress and a comfortable home at the same time. There are halls, private chambers, kitchens, and a chapel, all packed inside the walls.

Look closely at the bottoms of the big round corner towers. Each one sits on a square base. From that base, sloping triangular spurs of stone rise up and blend into the round tower. These spurs are a clever detail. They made the towers harder to undermine, and they anchored them firmly to the rock. Most visitors walk past them. Once you notice them, you will see them on every corner.

Then there is the ditch. Walk to its edge and look down. This deep moat was not dug through soft earth. It was cut straight into the solid sandstone. Think about the effort that took, with hand tools and muscle. It was a dry moat, not a water-filled one. Its steep, smooth sides made any attack on the walls slow, exposed, and dangerous.

Goodrich had its most violent moment during the English Civil War, in the seventeenth century. In 1646, a Royalist garrison held the castle for the king. Parliament's forces, led by Colonel John Birch, laid siege to it. To break the walls, they used a huge mortar, a short, wide cannon that fires heavy shot high into the air. It had a nickname, Roaring Meg. And here is a second surprise. That same mortar is displayed at the castle today, so look out for it.

The siege also left behind a legend. Locals tell of Alice Birch, said to be the colonel's niece, who was inside the castle with her Royalist sweetheart. According to the tale, the couple tried to escape on horseback across the River Wye. The river was in flood, and both were swept away. People say that on stormy nights, two riders still appear near the water. It is folklore, not history, but it has been told here for a very long time.

After the siege, the castle was deliberately damaged so it could never be used as a stronghold again. It slowly became a ruin. Then, in the eighteenth century, it found a new life. Travellers took boat trips down the Wye to admire romantic scenery. Writers praised ruins like this one as perfect features in the landscape. The poet William Wordsworth also visited this area, and he later recalled meeting a little girl near Goodrich, an encounter that inspired one of his poems.

Before you leave, step into the chapel. Look for its modern stained glass window. It remembers a wartime aircraft crash nearby, connected to the secret development of radar during the Second World War. It is a quiet, unexpected link between a medieval fortress and twentieth-century science. Then climb to the highest point you can reach. From the top, the Wye curves through green fields, and you can see why someone first chose this ridge.

Now, as you walk back toward the entrance, pause on the path for a moment. Look again at the colours: the grey keep, the red towers, the darker rock of the ditch below. Each one belongs to a different century. Listen for the jackdaws, and the wind in the open windows. The soldiers, the lords, and the boatloads of travellers are gone. But the stone is still here, still warm in the light, still watching the river.