And Odin? His mistrust of me came straight from the Oracle’s prophecy. At the time, the thought of betraying him had never even crossed my mind. I was innocent (well, nearly) until this web of deception descended on me. And now . . . well, now, I had no choice. There was only one path to follow. Admitting my guilt wouldn’t save me. All I could do was carry on and hope that my daughter was grateful enough to offer me a means of escaping the destiny that awaited me.

Lesson 6 Tears

LESSON 6

Tears

What do I care for Balder?
Don’t expect me to weep for him,
who never would have wept for me.

Lokabrenna

MEANWHILE, the Enchantress marched straight into the Underworld to demand her son’s return from the dead. She found Hel predictably difficult. My daughter had her plaything – though, typically, she still wasn’t pleased. Balder dead was compliant, but dull. The spark had gone out.

Hel was jaded. In her hall of bone and dust, she created a court of the dead, clothed them in glamours, made them dance; and still there was no joy in her conquest. Balder sat staring by her side, as unresponsive as ever.

‘Then give him back to me,’ said Frigg.

But my daughter was stubborn. At least if she had Balder, she thought, then no one else could have him. And maybe she could find a way to make him love her, given time.

The Enchantress raged and pleaded. She promised and cajoled. She said that Hel was the only heart that could fail to be moved by Balder’s death. ‘The Nine Worlds weep for Balder,’ she said. ‘But you – you’re as heartless as your father.’

Hel gave Frigg her dead eye. ‘That sounds to me like hyperbole,’ she said. ‘But if it’s true, then maybe you can change my mind.’

I didn’t rate Frigg’s chances. History is full of cases of folk who have tried to raise the dead, but usually they end in tears. This one also began that way, as Frigg set off to make good her claim.

‘Weep for Balder!’ came the cry.

‘Weep for Balder!’

‘Choose Life!’

The slogans spread like wildfire. Frigg’s story could wrench tears from a stone, and did, throughout the Middle Worlds. At her command, everyone mourned; everyone wept for Balder. Flowers were tied onto trees in his name; women tore their garments; men hung their heads; small animals howled; even the birds played their part.

It was a kind of hysteria; people who hadn’t even met Balder were suddenly stricken with grief at his death; sad songs were written in memory of him; total strangers bonded in grief.

But every trend has a backlash. At the moment of triumph, when all the Worlds wept for Balder, Frigg came upon an old crone living in a hovel in the woods.

‘Weep! O weep for Balder!’ she cried.