Don’t get me wrong. I had nothing much against Balder. Except for his looks, his smugness, his popularity and his inexplicable success with women, I had no particular grievance – but he was Odin’s youngest son, and after my few words with Mimir, I was beginning to harbour a sizeable grudge against my friend and brother. Besides, Hel wanted Balder – and I knew a way to accommodate her, with significant benefits to Yours Truly, if I managed to pull it off. The only remaining problem was how.

Don’t look at me like that. I thought you understood. I was fighting for my survival in the face of all of Asgard. The Oracle had shown me what fate was to be mine, and this was my only possible chance of escaping it. What could I do? On one side, there was Balder, who, let’s face it, had everything. On the other, Yours Truly, with nothing but his cunning. It was hardly a fair fight and yet I knew that, if it worked in my favour, Golden Boy would get all the sympathy. Not that I was sure it would; and yet, I had to try. Didn’t I?

By now the floor show was in full swing, and even some of the goddesses were vying with each other to see how many objects they could find to throw at Balder. Fruit seemed to be the favourite but however hard they tried, all it did was make him slightly sticky. Some of them wanted to lick him clean, and were kept at bay by Nanna, his wife, who was used to dealing with groupies.

At the edge of the little crowd, I noticed a figure sitting apart. It was Golden Boy’s blind brother Hoder, looking rather mournful. I didn’t blame him. Winter to Balder’s springtime, he’d never been very popular, and Frigg, so proud of her other son, had never managed to hide her disappointment in his stunted, imperfect sibling.

I moved a little closer, still keeping to the shadows. Hoder sensed my approach, and turned his sightless eyes towards me. No one else had noticed me, and no one else was paying any attention to Hoder, who was confused by the laughter and noise, and whom no one had thought to enlighten.

‘What’s up?’ I said. ‘Feeling left out? Wishing you could lob a tomato at Mr Perfect over there?’

Hoder grinned. ‘Well, maybe,’ he said.

‘No problem,’ I told him. ‘Here, take this dart. I’ll show you where to aim. Now – go!’

As I spoke, I handed him the dart tipped with the piece of mistletoe. I watched as he aimed it at Balder, and then . . .

Pink!

The gods fell silent.

‘Did I hit him?’ said Hoder, turning his head this way and that. ‘Hey, where did everybody go?’