‘Fine!’ she said, and threw down her stick. ‘I haven’t been this close to a man since my old husband died. Let’s see what you’re made of, big boy!’ And she threw herself at the Thunderer.

‘What about me?’ hissed Roskva, who was watching the proceedings with interest. ‘Don’t I get a chance to compete?’

‘Don’t be silly. Girls don’t compete,’ said Thialfi, still breathing heavily. ‘Girls are meant to sit and watch, and maybe bring their brothers a drink?’

Roskva kicked him, hard, in the shin.

‘Ouch!’

For the first time that day, I grinned.

Meanwhile, Thor and Ellie were locked in earnest combat. To begin with, Thor had held back, afraid to do the old woman harm. But very soon he had realized that she was stronger than she looked. The crooked old body was far from frail, and when he tried to throw her, she held her position fast, and laughed, and worked her bony fingers around all his most sensitive pressure points, so that he was obliged to go on the defensive just to avoid being thrown himself.

Suddenly the old woman twisted, locking Thor’s arm as she stepped behind him. Thor tried to escape the lock, but he had been thrown off balance; he fell to one knee.

The giants roared.

Thor went red.

Thialfi looked at Roskva and I felt their disillusionment. That terrible moment when a god turns out to be no more than a man – it was almost heartbreaking. I, too, was tarnished with failure; in the eyes of our young friends, we would never be gods again, just beaten, second-rate heroes.

Damn it, that hurt. I began to see that celebrity wasn’t all hot girls and free beer. It’s also the curse of expectation – and the bitterness of falling short. Perhaps that was why I’d always been so suspicious of fatherhood; perhaps I’d known instinctively how much that disillusion would hurt if I saw it in the faces of my boys.

‘Enough,’ said Utgard-Loki. ‘We’ve tested our guests to their limits. Now it’s time for us all to relax – it’s getting late. We’re all tired.’