That is a remarkable claim for any place, let alone one that has left not a single stone above the surface. The field is still known as the "Grave field," which at least gestures toward something having happened here, but the ground itself offers no confirmation.

The historian William Carrigan, writing in 1905 in his monumental history of the Diocese of Ossory, recorded the tradition that the church at Kiltown held this extraordinary distinction, second only to some unnamed first in the Roman canon of dedications. He was also clear that by his time nothing physical remained; the site was marked only by an associated graveyard, which itself has since vanished from view. The church stood beside the Kiltown road, and the field name preserved what the landscape could not. Whether the tradition of Roman naming has any documentary basis elsewhere, Carrigan does not say, and it may belong to the category of local memory that attaches exceptional prestige to a site precisely because everything tangible has been lost.

The hillside setting is not without a certain logic for an early ecclesiastical foundation. The slope faces south-west, and there are open views in most directions, the kind of exposure that suited communities who valued both visibility and, perhaps, a degree of watchfulness. The waterlogged condition of the field today, with its dense rush growth, probably reflects centuries of agricultural neglect on ground that was always difficult to drain. What lies beneath, if anything, remains entirely unexcavated and unknown.