Just south of King John’s Castle, near the water’s edge, stand the roofless ruins of Carlingford Priory — a haunting shell of stone arches and wind-worn cloisters that has watched the tides come and go for more than seven centuries.

The priory was founded around 1305 by Richard de Burgh, the Red Earl of Ulster, and dedicated to St Malachy. For over two hundred years, Dominican friars lived, prayed, and taught within its walls, serving the spiritual life of the bustling medieval town that grew around them.

That quiet devotion ended abruptly during Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries in the mid-16th century. The friars were expelled and their property seized. In the centuries that followed, the site was adapted for various secular uses — including, at one point, as a handball alley — before time and neglect reduced it to ruin.

By the 18th century, townsfolk had begun burying their dead among the broken cloisters, and the once-holy ground became a place of silence and remembrance.

Today, the nave stands open to the sky, its arches framing views of the harbour below. Only the wind and the gulls break the stillness — or so it seems.

Local tradition tells of a tall, veiled woman in black who walks the arches after nightfall. According to legend, she was once a pirate on the Irish Sea — fierce, feared, and merciless — until guilt for her crimes drove her ashore in search of redemption. She entered the priory, took vows, and rose to lead the community. But peace, even in prayer, eluded her.

In death, it is said, she was cursed to walk between the priory and the castle on the hill, her spirit caught forever between sin and salvation.

No historical record supports this tale — the Dominicans here were friars, not nuns — yet the legend endures as one of Carlingford’s most captivating pieces of ghost lore.

Visitors to the site still speak of cold currents of air, the soft murmur of distant chanting, and the fleeting glimpse of a shadowed figure moving silently among the stones.