It is nearly two metres long, tapering from just over half a metre at the head down to less than thirty centimetres at the foot, and its surface carries the ghostly outlines of what was once, apparently, an elaborate floriated cross-head, the type of decorative carved cross with branching, leaf-like ornament that was a common mark of prestige on high-status medieval grave monuments. Centuries of wear have reduced that ornament to suggestions rather than certainties, the detail dissolving into the general pallor of the stone.

The slab's sides are straight and roughly stab-dressed, a technique in which the stone surface is worked with a pointed tool to produce a relatively even but plainly functional finish, without the refinement of finer carving. That combination, an ambitious decorative scheme on the face alongside workmanlike treatment of the edges, hints at a monument that was made to be seen from above rather than from the side, lying flat over a burial rather than standing upright. Who it marked is no longer legible. The church itself, St Mary's, is a substantial medieval structure, and the presence of a slab of this size and ambition within it suggests a person of some local consequence, though the worn surface surrenders no name.