That the moral portrait of Olaf may be finished, and his claims to sanctity appreciated, we have yet to add that he had a concubine, and by her a bastard,—Magnus the Good,—four years after his marriage with Astridda. The circumstances connected with the birth of this prince are worthy of relation. Alfhilda, the royal concubine, was observed to be pregnant; and everybody knew that this was the result of her intercourse with Olaf. One night she was seized by the pains of labour, which were unusually severe; both her life and that of her infant were despaired of before it was brought into the world. Even after that event, so precarious was its existence, that the priest who was present insisted on its immediate baptism, and desired Sigvat the poet to awake the king for the purpose of knowing what name was to be given it. Nothing can better illustrate the tyranny of Olaf than the fact that Sigvat, favourite as he had long been, durst not fulfil this commission, at a time when mother and child were apparently on the brink of the grave. “Who dares awake him?” replied Sigvat. “But the infant must be baptized,” rejoined the priest. “I would rather incur the responsibility of naming the child,” said the poet, “than of awaking the king.” The name was Magnus. The next morning Olaf was in a great rage with Sigvat, whom he summoned before him, and asked how he could have the presumption to impose a name on his royal son. “Was it not better,” replied the poet, “to give the child to God rather than to the devil? Had he died without baptism, he must have been the devil’s. For my boldness I can but lose my head; and, if I do so, I must trust to God’s mercy!” “But why didst thou call the child Magnus?” demanded Olaf: “I have no kindred of that name.” “Because it was the name of Charlemagne.” “Thou art a fortunate man,” said the king. “Nor is this strange, as fortune is the companion of wisdom. Yet it _is_ strange when the imprudent man turns his very rashness into the source of advantage.” In the sequel this Magnus became king of Norway.[257] As nobody can be admitted into the calendar of saints without the operation of miracles, which the church requires as evidence of sanctity, we may be prepared for those of Olaf. That he healed incurable diseases, restored sight to the blind, assisted the warriors who invoked his aid, is asserted by the gravest Icelandic writers. One which we give in the Appendix, and which is by far the most imaginative of the number[258] may enable the reader to judge of what materials they consist. The sanctity of Olaf rests on a foundation of equal solidity with his miracles. Yet all the Roman Catholics in Europe are taught, from their infancy, to believe in both. How far his character, as given in the text, agrees with that which Alban Butler has drawn from that immense heap of rubbish, the Acta Sanctorum, may also be seen in the Appendix.[259] ------------------------------------------------------------------------