The Age Of Odin

The lesson taught us by this rumble?

Even gods should be more humble.

'Ye rulers of the earth and sky,

Look up, not down, when man walks by.'

He sat down to a roar of applause. Odin seemed amused, while Thor — undecided. He scowled at Bragi, and then across the room at me, then finally, reluctantly allowed himself a wavery smile.

Tankards were raised my way. People leaned over to give me a slap on the back. I just kept my head down and tried to ignore it all. I didn't want to be anybody's hero or the centre of attention.

In the end the fuss died down, and I saw an opportunity to leave. Mumbling something about needing to siphon the python, I made for the exit.

Thirteen

I'd binged a bit on the mead. Gone over my self-imposed four unit limit. Fresh air was in order.

But Christ, it was cold fresh air. The moment I hit the outdoors, the outdoors hit back. My first in-breath, I could feel my throat start to ice up. My teeth ached. My eyes smarted and the tears immediately started to crystallise.

All of which helped sober me up in no time flat.

The sky was amazing. Clear, which explained the shockingly low temperature, and masses of stars. So many stars, they seemed to crowd out the blackness — more light than dark up there. The snowy ground glowed in their brilliance and the gibbous moon's.

Across the way stood Yggdrasil, casting a huge silver shadow. I tramped over to it, curious to see if it would do that weird growing thing again, that optical illusion or whatever it was. Apprehensive, too. But the tree remained a tree, even when I got right up close to it. A fucking huge tree, yes, but still acceptably sized. Not skyscraper big, as it had become that other time. Believably big.

My reason for leaving the banquet — needing a slash — hadn't been completely an excuse. I unzipped and took a long, hard piss against one of Yggdrasil's mighty roots. Ah, relief! Steam rose in clouds. It was one of those wees that went on and on, that made you marvel at the capacity of the human bladder. I started to get bored, in fact. I half-closed my eyes. Come on, finish already. I felt like I was draining the contents of a watermelon.

A noise right in front of me snapped me out of my piss trance. On a low-hanging branch, just inches from my nose, there was a red squirrel, and it was chittering at me, angrily. Its brush of a tail kept flicking and twitching back and forth, and its little black pushpin eyes flashed. It was having a right old go, yammering and squeaking, the whole branch vibrating with the intensity of its movements. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought I was being told off for widdling on Yggdrasil.

I tucked away and zipped up, chuckling at the squirrel, which only seemed to agitate it more.

'Calm down, you fluffy-tailed rat,' I said. 'You'll give yourself a stroke.'

'Ratatosk is offended,' said a voice in my ear.

I swung round, bringing a clenched fist up. Pure reflex.

Big mistake.

Next instant, I was flat on my back in the snow. I'd barely felt it. A hand grabbing my shoulder, a foot hooked behind my knee, and bam! Gid Coxall laid out like a frog on a dissecting slab.

To make matters worse, a sheath knife was being held at my throat, tip poised over my Adam's apple.

To make matters very slightly better, the person on the other end of the knife was Freya. The lovely Freya.

Only, the expression on her face was not lovely at all. Her features were fixed in a sneer of contempt. Not even a hint of friendliness there.

'No one raises a fist to me and gets away with it,' she said. 'Especially not a man.'

I wasn't sure if she meant man as in male of the species or man as in mortal being, and I wasn't about to query the point. It could have been either and was probably both.

'Didn't mean to,' I croaked. 'You surprised me. I reacted. Overreacted. Don't slit my throat.'

The sheath knife didn't move. Somewhere overhead I could hear the squirrel tittering scornfully. There was no other way to describe it. If squirrels could mock, this was exactly the sound they'd make.

'You were so easy to sneak up on,' Freya said.

'Was I?' I had to admit the way she'd completely blindsided me was somewhat embarrassing, and I couldn't even blame my knackered ear. She'd come from the right. I should have heard her and hadn't. Talk about stealthy.

'Very easy. Were you a rabbit, or an enemy sentry, your blood would now be reddening the snow.'

'Then I'm glad I'm neither of those. Look, will you put that thing away and let me get up?'

'I don't know. Ratatosk, what do you think?'

She was talking to the squirrel, and bugger me if it didn't pause from its tittering for a moment, as if considering, then delivered a stream of chirrups and chitters by way of a reply.

'He thinks,' said Freya, 'that you're ill-mannered and obnoxious but, after all, only a human and we should take that into account.'

More squirrel chatter.

'And he says if you agree to apologise to the World Tree for besmirching it with your waste product, all will be forgiven.'

'I say sorry to the tree, and everything's hunky dory again?'

'That's it.'

'And you promise you'll put that knife away?'

'Certainly.'

'Then you have yourself a deal.' Granted, a cockeyed deal with a knife-wielding woman who talked to squirrels, but a deal nonetheless.

Freya got up, slipping the blade into the scabbard on her belt. I stood, brushed snow off me, then bowed my head, solemn as a churchgoer.

'Yggdrasil,' I said, 'I sincerely regret what I just did. I peed on you, and that was wrong and thoughtless of me. I should have known better. Maybe you could use the moisture and the ammonia to help you grow? Just a thought. But I'll never do it again. All right?'

The 'All right?' was directed at Freya, but the tree seemed to think it was being addressed and ought to respond, so it shook its branches.

No, obviously it didn't. A stray wind came in out of nowhere, puffed against Yggdrasil and made all of the leaves shiver, releasing a fine dusting of snowflakes on our heads. That was what happened. The tree wasn't fucking answering me, like something out of an Enid Blyton book. That would have been absurd. It was a random coincidence, nothing else. A gust of wind. On a night as breeze-free and still as any I'd ever known. But still, just the wind.

Ratatosk the squirrel seemed satisfied, at any rate, and scampered off into the upper branches.

'So what brings you out here?' I said to Freya. 'Why aren't you inside in the warm, partying with the others?'

'I could ask you the same.'

'Not my thing, really.' Not these days, not any more.

'Nor mine. I prefer not to gorge and guzzle. My pleasures are simpler, purer. The majesty of a night sky, for instance, and the knowledge that live prey awaits me out in the woods.'

'You're going hunting?'

She nodded.

'For what?'