queen entered his apartment, horn in hand, and challenged him to drink more. At length both were intoxicated, until Harald was overpowered by sleep, when Sigfrida went to her own couch. The next day the entertainment was renewed; but this time both hostess and guest were moderate. Love had entered the heart of Harald, but he durst not declare it; and after some time he took his leave, and returned to Norway. But he could not rest; and when spring came, he revisited the Baltic. Affection had made him timid; he durst not, unbidden, go to the house of Sigfrida, and he requested an interview on the sea-coast. She rode to the place, and Harald, dismissing his attendants, mentioned his passion. It found no response in her heart. He had, she observed, a good wife already. The king rejoined, that Asta, his queen, was no fit match for him; that she was much inferior in birth. “That may be true,” replied Sigfrida, who was believed to possess some knowledge of futurity; “but at this very moment she is pregnant of a son, who will be a great honour to you both.” She then departed as she had arrived, on horseback, leaving Harald in much despondency. Unable to desist from his hopeless suit, he again repaired to her palace, and found another royal suitor. As before, the entertainment was good; but, in the ensuing night, both kings were destroyed by their hostess. The fleet returned to Asta without its leader. She immediately repaired to her father’s house in the uplands, and gave birth to a son, whom she named Olaf, destined to become the sainted king of Norway.[201] [Sidenote: 993 to 995.] Hako, now the sole ruler of all Norway, was, like many other princes, unable to resist prosperity. The love which his people—at least, the inhabitants of Drontheim—had long borne him, had changed into hatred, by the licentiousness of his conduct in his declining years. The daughters of his noblest chiefs he forcibly brought to his palace, and, after a few days, returned them to their families. Murmurs arose; but they were disregarded by the hoary idolater, who thought his power too well established to be shaken. But he was at length roused from this dream of security, by the report that there was a descendant of fair-haired Harald, unequalled for valour, who probably aspired to the throne of his ancestors. This was Olaf, the son of Trygve, whose adventures are the most romantic in the history of the North.[202] [Sidenote: 969 to 970.]