The stone is nearly two metres long and tapers noticeably from head to foot, a shape common to medieval funerary slabs that echoes the form of a shrouded body. What makes it worth pausing over is the cross carved in relief across its surface: a seven-armed segmental cross with fleur-de-lis terminals, the ends of each arm flowering into the three-lobed form more often associated with heraldry than with gravestones. There is no legible inscription, and there may never have been one, so whoever commissioned this careful piece of carving remains entirely unknown.

The cross-shaft carries two distinct decorative features known as knops, a term for the rounded or moulded projections that punctuate a shaft, similar in function to the knobs on a turned wooden column. A two-barred knop sits at the top of the shaft and a single-barred knop at the base, where the cross rests on a carved pillar-base form. The detail is precise enough to suggest a skilled workshop was involved. Writing at the turn of the twentieth century, Fitzgerald counted eight arms rather than seven and noted the inscription as illegible, a small discrepancy that hints at how such carved surfaces can be read differently depending on condition, lighting, and the eye of the observer.