What It Snot

What's mortification? asks Bertille.

Feeling embarrassed, says her mother. Like, if your friends found out you ate snot. 

Yuck! says Bertille. I stopped eating snot years ago. 

I know, says Mathilde. It was just an example. Why were you asking?

Because this paper is about Saint Malo, says Bertille. He sailed to the Isle of the Blest with Saint Brendan.

And they ran out of food and ate snot, says Terence.

Definitely not going on the back of my passport, says Roo-kai.

Saint Malo was where I got Saint Roley, says Terence. My best parrot.

What else does it say about Saint Malo? asks Gaius.

During their travels they met a dead giant, says Bertille.

You can't MEET a dead giant, says Gaius. But continue.

And Saint Brendan temporarily revived him, says Bertille.

Forgive me for smiling, says Gaius. What next?

Then Saint Malo became the spiritual leader of the district later known as Saint Malo, says Bertille.

How did he know? asks Terence.

He didn't, at that point, says Gaius. Then what?

He was known as the bishop of Aleth, says Bertille. He spent his last days in solitary penance...

I know what that is, says Terence. I was supposed to be in it, after I dropped Saint Joseph's adze off the palace and knocked out a tourist. 

I never knew that, says Gaius. Surely you didn't intend to?

No way! says Terence. I hid behind a peacock, and Saint Joseph couldn't find me.. 

Do you want the rest of the sentence? asks Bertille.

Yes, we do, says her mother. It's a fascinating story.

He spent his last days in solitary penance, prayer and mortification, says Bertille. 

Eating snot! says Terence.

Not in this case, says Gaius. It would have been a more painful form of mortification. He would have tried to purify his mortal body.

How? asks Terence.

Various ways, says Gaius. Kneeling on sharp stones, wearing an itchy shirt, that sort of thing.

Woop! says Terence. They're not painful.

He died on November 15th, 621 AD, says Bertille. 

Ah, says Mathilde. Peace at last for Saint Malo. What a nice story. 

Although this may have been a different saint called Marcoult, adds Bertille. That's what it says here.

Ha ha! That's wrecked it! says Terence.