Before the king stood the young taper-bearer, Ottar Birting, who was on duty that day. He was of small stature, but of agreeable appearance, lively and bold. His surname Birting had been given him on account of his black hair and dark complexion. He sprang forward and snatched the book from the fire, held it out, and said: "Yes, sire, different were the days when you came with great state and splendor to Norway, and all your friends hastened to welcome you. Now days of sorrow have come over us; for to this holy festival many of your friends have come, and cannot be cheerful on account of your sad condition. Now, good king, follow my advice! Make peace first with the queen, whom you have so highly affronted, and then gladden by gentleness all your chiefs, friends, and servants." "What?" cried King Sigurd. "Dost thou dare to give me advice, thou black churl, thou great lump of a houseman's lad!" And he sprang up, drew his sword, and swung it, as if going to cut him down. But Ottar stood quiet and upright, and looked the king straight in his face. The king turned round the sword-blade, and gently touched Ottar on the shoulder with it. Then he sat down in silence on his high-seat. All were silent, for nobody dared to utter a word. In a little while the king had quieted down. He then rebuked his liegemen for not having stopped his insane acts, and thanked Ottar for what he had done. He concluded his speech by making Ottar a liegeman, and said: "Go thou now and sit among the lendermen, and be a servant no longer."
Ottar Birting became in later years one of the most celebrated men in Norway.
A few years before his death King Sigurd, in spite of the strong protest of Bishop Magne, discarded Queen Malmfrid, and married a beautiful and high-born woman, named Cecilia. The last winter of his life King Sigurd spent in Oslo. In the spring he was taken violently sick. His friends saw in this the punishment of Heaven for his improper marriage, and urged him to dissolve it; but he loved Cecilia too dearly to acquiesce in this. At last, she herself suggested a separation. "I did not know that thou, too, wouldst leave me like the others," said the king sadly. He grew gradually worse after this, and on March 26, 1130, he died, forty years old. His body was deposited in a vault in St. Halvard's Church. According to the saga, "the time of his reign was good for the country, for there was peace, and crops were good."