Unhelpful Comforts

Saint Roley is placed on a pile of hard cushions.

Kneeling cushions, says Maclou. Not terribly comfy, but if we pile up enough of them....

I'm sure it will be lovely, says Belle. Won't it, Saint Roley?

Sasshoo! says Saint Roley.

Rest, little bird, says Méen. You have all night. I assume you're all staying? There's plenty of room here.

Very kind, says Gaius, but we shouldn't impose any further.

Not at all, says Méen. Butterball, go and ask the Virgin for a few extra cushions.

Butterball finds himself in a pickle

She won't give me any, says Butterball.

What? says Méen. In trouble again are we? Did you finish your homework?

Yes, says Butterball. I got the right answer.

What was that? asks Maclou.

Not fixed, says Butterball.

What was the question? asks Méen.

The Arctic Circle, says Butterball. The answer is: IT ISN'T.

That can't be the answer, scoffs Terence.

No, says Baldy. It isn't.

That's what I SAID!, says Butterball.

Let me resolve this , says Gaius. Was it mathematics or geography?

It was homework, says Butterball.

He doesn't know, laughs Terence.

I do know, says Butterball trying to remember the question.

The words of the Virgin.

The Arctic Circle. Is it fixed or not fixed? That was the question.

Butterball says it.

Aha, says Gaius. I can help you with that one.

Help us all, says Maclou.

The position of the Arctic Circle is not fixed, says Gaius. It's latitude depends on the earth's axial tilt, which fluctuates within a margin of two degrees over a period of 40,000 years due to tidal forces resulting from the orbit of the moon.

Gaius! says Belle. What does that mean, simply?

It means, says Gaius, the Arctic Circle is currently drifting northwards at a speed of about 15 metres per year.

That's right, says Butterball.

Terence doesn't get it. But Baldy is smarter. He gets it.

Baldy has been thinking about his poor missing baby Saint Malo, adrift on the ocean. The Arctic Circle. So that's where he's going. Very slowly.

And in forty thousand years he will float back again.

It's a comforting thought, which doesn't help Saint Malo.