It is an understated object, easy to walk past, but the detail in its making rewards closer attention.

The slab measures 1.45 metres in length and tapers from a width of 0.58 metres at the eastern end down to 0.36 metres at the west, giving it a slight wedge profile characteristic of early medieval grave markers. Near the centre sits a Latin cross, the kind with a longer vertical arm, rendered in low relief, meaning the cross itself is raised just fractionally above the surrounding stone surface rather than cut into it. The raised band forming it is roughly a centimetre wide and barely three millimetres proud of the face. At the broader eastern end, a second cross appears, this one a Greek cross, where all four arms are of equal length, measuring 34 centimetres across in both directions and formed by a similarly thin raised band. It is here that the stone has broken, and the fracture runs diagonally across the intersection of the arms, cutting through the very centre of that second cross. Whether the break happened during burial, during some later disturbance of the ground, or simply through centuries of exposure and settlement is not recorded. What remains is a slab that carries both crosses intact in outline, even if one is now bisected by damage that has its own quiet history.