His father, a bard, died when the lad was two. His mother was induced by poverty to enter a convent, and left him to be fostered by some sort of Holy man.
Around teenage time, our hero began going out minstreling with his father’s old harp and a white dog to guide and guard him. He could cope very well.
Once when being jeered and jostled by oafish village children he played a very strange chord and commanded them to ‘Dance as long as the world turns’. Whereupon they all joined hands and skipped off. You may have come across them on occasion.
At 14 he joined a monastic school at Plouvein where he taught music and scripture, and despite his handicap helped out on the farm plowing with the aid of a donkey and his dog.
There came a day when a marauding wolf attacked the animals and killed them both. But our Saint wasn’t having any of this. He spoke to the wolf very sternly indeed and made it take on the duties of plow and guidewolf.
The abbot of the establishment was an uncle, and when he died our Saint succeeded him. Now in charge, he moved the whole school to Lanhouarneau in Breton — working a few miracles en route. (Thirsty work? Bottles empty? Right, let’s have an instant fountain... sort of thing.)
Established at his new location, he branched out into healing, exorcism or whatever was needed. Even the local frogs would stay quiet at the sight of his harp and an uplifted finger.
He is the Patron of eye complaints, horse protection (hopefully donkeys also) and this has been extended to tractors in the course of time. They don’t make Saints like this any more.