Or at least, there was. The vegetation inside the ruined walls has grown so dense, with trees taking root among the old floor levels, that the tomb has effectively vanished from view, swallowed by the same slow neglect that has been eroding it for centuries.

The tomb is an effigial monument, meaning it carries a carved, three-dimensional likeness of the deceased in high relief, a form common among the Anglo-Norman and Hiberno-Norman aristocracy from the thirteenth century onwards. When it was recorded in 1826 by the antiquarian writer Brewer, it was already badly damaged, described as having "suffered so much from the neglect and contumely of successive ages" that the identity of the figure could no longer be read from the stone itself. Brewer speculated, on the basis of the decorative details, that the monument dated to the sixteenth century and was most likely raised for Sir John Tyrrell of Castlelost. The Tyrrell family were the dominant lords of this part of Westmeath through the medieval and early modern periods, and the church held numerous monuments to them, most of them already mutilated by Brewer's time. Sir John's grandson, Gerald, or Garret Tyrrell, died on 6th April 1637 and was buried here, and the family's long association with Castlelost ended not long afterwards, when their estates were forfeited during the upheavals of the seventeenth century.

The site is genuinely difficult to access now, not through any formal restriction but simply through the sheer growth of the place. Anyone attempting to find the tomb would be working against dense undergrowth and mature trees that have colonised the interior of the church entirely. The knight in armour may still be there beneath the ivy and the fallen branches, unnamed and largely forgotten, which is more or less how Brewer found him two hundred years ago.