Far fewer crouch down to examine what lies on the floor of the cathedral choir: a graveslab, surviving only as its lower half, quietly recording two people whose full names the centuries have half-erased.

The slab measures just over a metre in length and is decorated with a cross-shaft, the shaft rising from a pillar-base form with three cross-bands above it, a carved scheme typical of medieval Irish funerary stonework. What makes it particularly compelling is the Latin inscription running along both its long edges in Black Letter script, the angular, compressed letterforms used widely in medieval manuscripts and monumental carving across Europe. The text, fragmentary as it is, was translated in the early twentieth century by FitzGerald and later by Maher: one side commemorates Jacob Cantwell, who died on the fourth day of November, the year now lost to weathering; the other records his wife, her name gone, her death date similarly incomplete. The Cantwell family were a notable Anglo-Norman dynasty in Tipperary and Kilkenny, and the choice of burial in the cathedral choir on the Rock of Cashel, one of the most symbolically charged ecclesiastical sites in medieval Ireland, would have been a deliberate and significant act for a family of standing. The slab's current condition, worn and truncated, is a reminder of how much has been lost from even the most prominent of medieval sites.