But no – it was too late for that. Odin had taken his revenge. Had I really believed he would? Honestly, I don’t know. I’d always known he was capable of doing these things, but to do them to me?

And so I stayed in hiding, moving from the Hindarfell underground through World Below. The Aesir widened the search for me, sending Skadi to hunt me in the Northlands; Ran to comb the seas with her net; Njörd to search the rivers. Sól and Mani, the Sun and the Moon, roamed the skies in search of me; the Tunnel Folk looked for me underground; everyone was on the alert for the faintest gleam of my signature.

Frigg was especially tireless. Just as she had canvassed every root and blade of grass after the death of Balder, she now sent out a general call to seek and locate Yours Truly. There was talk of a reward, but mostly folk seemed happy to help. I’d known I wasn’t popular, but not the extent of the hatred levelled at my humble self, growing ever more humble as the circle began to close.

I won’t lie. I was getting scared. Everyone was against me. I’d holed up in the Northlands, in the valley of the Strond, on top of a hill from which I could see for miles. Under the Hill was a gateway that led to World Below and beyond; it was a kind of crossroads, with escape routes in every direction.

For months I lived as a fugitive, shielding my signature; saving my glam. I built a hut from turf and wood; I lived on fish from the river below. Winter was coming; I was cold. At night I was afraid to sleep, for fear that they might track me through Dream. In short, I was about as miserable as any of them could have hoped, and yet it wasn’t enough for them. They wanted me to suffer more.

I don’t know how they found me at last. Perhaps through Dream – I had to sleep. In any case, they came for me, converging on my hiding place like wolves on their prey.

I saw their signatures too late; a net of runelight, closing fast. Nine of the usual suspects: Heimdall, approaching in hawk Aspect; Skadi, in her snow wolf guise, with her runewhip in her jaws; Thor, with Mjølnir, in his chariot; Njörd, riding a kayak downstream; Frey with his golden boar; Freyja in her falcon cloak; Idun and Bragi on horseback, and of course, the General, mounted on Sleipnir, spear in hand, in full Aspect, flying his colours across the sky like a victory banner.