The Gospel of Loki (25 page)

‘Sound familiar, brother?’ I said.

His startled look was almost worth the whole distressing episode. ‘Where did you hear that?’

‘Where do you think?’

He sighed. ‘You spoke to the Oracle.’

‘Well, you weren’t about to confide in me. I had to find out for myself.’

‘And how much did it tell you?’

I shrugged. ‘Enough to wish I hadn’t asked.’

Once more, Odin sighed. Like it or not, we were both affected by the Oracle’s words. We had
both
heard the prophecy – and once heard, it couldn’t be unheard. Trying to go against it now would have been as futile as trying to make it happen – both courses of action being equally led by the prophecy. As the Head had told me, a man often meets his destiny running to avoid it, which meant that whatever Odin did, he would be playing the Oracle’s game.

He turned to address the other gods. ‘Killing him isn’t an option,’ he said. ‘But he has to be subdued.’

‘I can do that,’ Skadi said, fingering her runewhip. ‘I find the
dead very cooperative.’

‘No.’ Odin shook his head.

Skadi made a rude noise.

‘So what did you have in mind?’ said Thor.

‘Imprisonment,’ Odin said. ‘Until we know what the prophecy means, we can’t afford to let him go. We need to keep him safe, somewhere—’

I interrupted: ‘Wait! I know!’ Once more I quoted the Oracle:

I see one bound beneath the court,
Under the Cauldron of Rivers.
The wretch looks like Loki. His wife
Alone stands by him as he suffers.

Odin gave me the evil eye. ‘You’re very well informed,’ he said.

I smirked. ‘Like you, I keep ahead.’

LESSON 9

Venom

Did I mention I hated snakes?

Lokabrenna

A
ND SO
Your Humble Narrator, growing ever more humble as the sad tale unfolds, was dragged down into World Below, beneath the Cauldron of Rivers. Right at the source of the river Dream; on the borders of Chaos; the hinterlands, half in, half out of the waking world.

There springs Dream in its purest form; volatile, ephemeral. And that was where, deep underground, above a narrow, rocky vent that stank of sulphur and belched foul steam onto a trio of rocks the shape and size of a particularly uncomfortable chaise-longue, I was shackled and bound with runes that kept me from shifting Aspect.

Odin checked the bonds himself. They were quite unbreakable. He fixed me with his one good eye and said: ‘I’m sorry it turned out this way.’

‘When I get free,
brother
,’ I said, ‘I’ll be sure to pay you a call. It’s really the least I can do, don’t you think? After all you’ve done for me?’

Heimdall grinned. Those golden teeth lit up the cave like a string of fairy-lights. I promised myself that if Mimir was right, and I
did
get the chance to meet Goldie in combat, I would
collect those golden teeth and make myself a neck-chain.

‘You’ll rot down here till the End of the Worlds,’ he said.

I uttered something obscene. But, in a way, Goldie was right; it’s just that the End of the Worlds was not as far away as they thought.

One by one, my erstwhile friends came to hammer the last few nails into Yours Truly’s coffin. Bragi played a madrigal. Idun kissed my forehead. Freyja shot me a spiteful look and told me I’d got what I’d always deserved. Frey and Njörd just shook their heads. Týr patted me with his one good hand. Thor looked awkward – as well he might, after everything I’d done for him – and said:

‘I’m sorry. You went too far.’

Lovely. What an epitaph.

By the end, there was only Skadi left. She stood very quietly by my side, watching me with a curious intensity. She’d let her hair grow while they hunted me, and it was pale as sea-foam, framing a face as deceptively sweet as that of a ravenous mink.

She stayed there such a long time that it unnerved me. What did she want? The others had gone. Was she planning to make good her threat, and kill me while I was helpless?

She must have sensed my unease. She smiled.

‘We’re one step away from perfection,’ she said.

I didn’t like the sound of that. Nor did I like the look of the thing she had in her hand. She’d been keeping it out of my field of vision, but now she raised it to the level of my eyes with a terrible deliberation.

‘I brought you a little something,’ she said.

‘A snake? I asked for a
snack
,’ I said. ‘Still, I guess it’s the thought that counts.’

Skadi gave that smile again. A little shiver went down, first my spine, then every hair on my body.

‘Not just any snake,’ she said. ‘This one’s a spitting cobra. It likes to spit venom at its enemies. The venom doesn’t damage unbroken skin, but if it gets in the victim’s eyes – you can bet
that’s going to hurt.’

I didn’t much like where this was going. I said: ‘What are you going to do?’

She smiled again. ‘You’ll like this. I’m going to put her right
here
.’ She indicated an outcrop of rock just at the level of my face. ‘You might want to try and keep still while I do. She can be a little jumpy.’

‘Listen, Skadi . . .’ I began, then realized that hearing me beg would only enhance her enjoyment. It wouldn’t make any difference to whatever she did to me but I could at least spoil the moment.

And so I clamped my lips shut and said nothing, trying not to look at the snake. Snakes come in two general types; loathsomely sluggish and scarily speedy. This was one of the speedy ones. It thrashed and hissed in Skadi’s hand as she pinned it to the rock. I hoped it would bite her, but it didn’t. I guess it must have known instinctively that if it tried, it was bound to come off worse.

I looked at the snake on the rock ledge. It was right at the level of my eyes. I could see it watching me, its length full of tics and twitches. Its jaws flexed with rubbery hatred. It looked both mean and just stupid enough to assume that I was the one to blame for its current predicament.

I lay on the rock as still as I could and tried not to breathe. I knew that a sound – a gesture – could unleash an attack.

Skadi picked up a handful of stones.

Pinged one right off the rockface, just above the seething snake.

Said: ‘You’re going to have
so
much fun getting to know one another.’

The snake moved too quickly for me to react. A fine puff of droplets spattered my face. For a moment there was no pain.

Then there was.

I started to scream.

The pain went on for a long time. Blind, burning, beyond speech: I twisted and thrashed in my shackles. The snake did the same, hissing venom. A red curtain of anguish descended over everything. I think if I hadn’t been chained to the rock, I might have clawed out my own eyes.

No, don’t try to imagine it. Just think of Your Humble Narrator. All right, so I’d done a few things of questionable morality. But seriously? Did I deserve
this
?

When the red curtain began to lift, and I was able to use words again, I revisited the pleading option. My pride was gone; and my sense of shame.

‘Please! Please! Take it
away
!’

But begging for mercy didn’t work. Nor did screaming to Odin for help, or trying to turn my face away, or arching my back to try to get as far from the serpent as I could. As soon as I moved or raised my voice, the evil creature would strike again, and as soon as it struck, I screamed and thrashed . . .

‘Please! Don’t leave me!
Please!
My
eyes
!’

Behind me, moving away, I could hear the sound of Skadi’s laughter.

LESSON 10

Punishment

Punishment is futile. It doesn’t stop crime, or undo the past, or make the culprit sorry. In fact, all it does is waste time and cause unnecessary suffering.

Lokabrenna

T
HINK WHAT IT MUST HAVE BEEN LIKE
for Your Humble Narrator. Chained to a rock in World Below; blinded and in constant pain. I have no idea how much time passed – Time works differently so close to Dream, and a few moments in the waking world can seem like an eternity. But Pain is also a country where Time works in a different way, and it might have been hours, or days, or weeks before I slowly became aware of a silent presence at my side.

At first I thought it was Skadi, come to torture me again. Then I
hoped
it was Skadi, come to put an end to me. Then I began to realize that it had been some minutes since the snake had delivered its last volley of poison spray, and that the burning in my eyes had begun to abate a little.

I was still blind, but now I could just distinguish light from darkness. I said:

‘Who’s there?’

No one replied. I could hear the slithering of the snake on the rock by my side, and the quiet breathing of someone who
must have been standing very close. I said:

‘Please. Help me escape. I’ll do anything you want.’

I guess perhaps a part of me was still hoping it might be the Old Man, come to help me in secret after exercising his authority.

Dry-lipped, I said: ‘Brother, please. I promise I’ll never defy you again. I’ll show you how to fight Surt. I know how to do it. Odin.
Please
. . .’

‘It’s me,’ said a voice.

‘
Sigyn?’

I managed to open my eyes. They still burned but now I could see a shadowy outline next to me. The shape seemed to be holding something between my face and the serpent. As my vision slowly cleared, I saw that it was the large glass mixing bowl that Sigyn used to made cake batter. The sides of the bowl were already streaming with the serpent’s venom.

‘It’s all I had to hand,’ she said, looking at me tenderly. ‘Silly old Snakey thinks he can get to you through the glass. He’s a
nasty
one, isn’t he? Nasty, mean old Snakey.’

Snakey hissed, as well he might.

Sigyn went on: ‘Poor angel. You must be
so
uncomfortable. Still, I’m here now. Try not to move. You’ll only hurt yourself, you know.’

My eyes were still streaming – with pain, I think, or perhaps they were tears of gratitude. For a moment the thought of release filled me with euphoria.

‘Oh, Sig,’ I said, ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been such a rotten husband. I promise you, that’s going to change. Just get me off this rock. Please.’

‘Oh, Loki,’ she said. ‘You’re
so
sweet. And I really believe you mean it, too. But I can’t let you go.’

‘Say
what
?’

‘Well, you’re here for a
reason
, dear. Criminals have to be punished. And if I let you go, I’d be letting down Odin and all the others.’

For once, I was wholly lost for words. ‘
What?’
I repeated.

Sigyn smiled. Through a haze of tears I saw her face; tender, loving, immovable. ‘Well, you
did
kill Balder,’ she said. ‘That’s why Odin killed our boys. So in a way, you’re responsible.’

I started to panic.

‘No, I’m not! Sigyn, please! Let me go!’

‘Stop moving. You’ll knock the basin.’

I looked at her in disbelief. She looked serene – and quite unhinged. Had the deaths of Vali and Narvi finally brought her to the edge? Or was this the scenario she’d always secretly wanted – to have me to herself for good, helpless and in her power?

‘I brought some fruitcake for later,’ she said. ‘If you like, I’ll cut you a slice.’

‘Cake,’ I said. ‘You brought
cake
?’

‘Well, cake always makes
me
feel better,’ she said. ‘It’s cherry and almond. Your favourite.’

‘Please! You
have
to let me go!’

‘I don’t, and I won’t.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘Now don’t make me cross, or I might have to go for a little walk to calm my nerves. And if I do that, there’ll be nobody to hold this between you and Snakey.’

I looked up at the mixing bowl, the snake’s jaws horribly magnified through the thickness of the glass.

Snakey looked right back at me with maniac intensity.

I could tell he was only biding his time, waiting for Sigyn to lower the bowl, which was already a quarter-full of collected venom.

How many minutes, I asked myself, before she would need to empty the bowl? How many minutes before the snake, seeing its chance, would strike? How many minutes, how many hours before I was screaming in torment again?

Punishment is futile, of course. It doesn’t stop crime, or undo the past, or make the culprit sorry. In fact, all it does is waste time and cause unnecessary suffering. Perhaps that’s why it’s the basis
of so many world religions. I thought of the Oracle’s prophecy.

The wretch looks like Loki. His wife

Alone stands by him as he suffers.

Oh, gods. And I’d thought the snake was bad. But to wait until the End of the Worlds listening to Sigyn’s chatter, eating her fruitcake and watching the snake through the fish-eye lens of that mixing bowl . . .

I tried a last, miserable tactic. ‘Please. I love you, Sig,’ I said.

That’s
how pitiful I was. That’s how sorry I was for myself. That’s how wretchedly low I’d sunk – using the L-word
to my wife
. . .

She smiled again. ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ she said, and I knew that my last gambit had failed. In fact, my words had sealed my fate: she had me just where she wanted me. Needy, and helpless, and desperate, and hurt, and wholly in her power.

She looked at me with tears in her eyes, and her voice was tender as she said: ‘Oh, Loki, sweetheart, I love you too. And I’m going to take
such
good care of you.’