I started by telling him something about Frey, the chief of the Vanir. I stressed his good looks, his flashy armour, his wealth of gold and treasures. I spoke of the ship, Skidbladnir, that folds up into a compass, and of the golden boar Gullin-Bursti, and of the runesword made for him in the early days of the war between Aesir and Vanir. Most of all, I described that sword, chased in silver and gold and fizzing with glam from point to hilt; that runesword, symbol of his might, his manhood, his authority . . .

‘Name your price. Any price,’ I said to Gerda’s father. ‘Don’t be afraid to speak up for yourself. A daughter is worth more than gold. More than cattle. More than rubies.’

Gymir scowled. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘My price for Gerda is Frey’s runesword. That is, if she wants him. If not . . .’ He shrugged. ‘I’m warning you. My daughter’s unusually headstrong.’

I hid my smile behind my hand. ‘Sir, you drive a hard bargain,’ I said. ‘Still, Frey did say he’d pay anything.’

Now to persuade the daughter, I thought. It shouldn’t be too difficult. A little flattery and charm; some baubles; a little poetry . . .

I found the girl in her father’s hall. A blonde and haughty piece of work – just Frey’s type, in fact. Blue eyes, creamy skin, legs that just went on and on. And that look that men like Frey seem to find irresistible; a look that says, On your knees, scum, because you know I’m worth it.

Well, I gave her the works. I wooed her. Lutes, flowers, perfume, the lot. But Gerda was impervious. Nothing seemed to entice her. Not gold, nor presents, nor flattery, not even the golden apples of youth. The woman was incorruptible. Seems she’d caught sight of Frey once and he just really wasn’t her type.

Well, I sympathized with that. But I’d told Frey I’d win the girl, and besides, I had my plan to consider. And so I went back home to Frey, to tell him the girl was practically his, barring a little paperwork.

‘Paperwork?’ repeated Frey. He was learning to play the lute, and doing it rather badly.

‘Well, formalities,’ I said. ‘The man has to check your credentials before he entrusts his daughter to you. Plus, his asking price was unreasonably high.’

‘Oh, pay him and be done with it!’ said Frey. ‘I’m going crazy here.’

I shrugged. ‘All right. It’s your funeral. But when Odin finds out about all this, as you know he will, I want you to remember that giving up your runesword to your prospective father-inlaw was entirely your idea, and that I opposed it.’

‘Whatever,’ said Frey. ‘It’s my sword. Odin has nothing to do with this.’