You look out over the sheep and cattle of King Saul as the sun slowly crests the plains. Watching the sunrise, you stand and laughed. Mockingly, you called out to the rising sun and fading stars. “Hear Oh Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.” You fall to the ground in a fit of laughter. You know for a fact that you are scaring the other herdsmen, but at this point, who cares. You watched Saul have worse fits than this in front of his court, and they haven’t abandoned him. Besides, as of late, it seems you have a certain amount of sway with Saul. None of the herdsmen want to chance irritating you.
You take the copy of the Pentateuch from your satchel and read the passage where Jacob deceived his father Isaac into blessing him as the firstborn. You grin and look up to Heaven. You lift your voice in a wailing, singsong tone and pray.
Father above, God Most High,
I know you see me and hear my cry.
You love all truth and hate a lie,
That’s why I adjure you to tell me why
You say, ‘Jacob, I loved and Esau, I hated.”
Surely by now, your fierce hate is sated
Send me a sign to show, I am not fated
To serve Israelite scum, the worst you’ve created
You stare up at the placid sky, so deep and blue with a few cottony clouds floating by with the breeze. It stands silently, almost mocking the emotion in your plea.
You smile. “I prefer my God to be the strong, silent type.”
You’re just about to start writing a psalm or two, when you hear footsteps, rapidly approaching from behind. You see that it’s one of the boys that you payed to listen to the village gossip. He runs up to you and stops, panting with his hands on his knees.
“Quickly boy, I don’t have all day!” You say. You know it sounds harsh, but these boys are just in the perfect area of age where they respond well to threats from authority, and as the Royal Herdsman of all Israel, you hold more than a little sway.
“It’s David!” He pants out. “He just returned from fighting the Philistines, and he’s headed to the palace to ask for Michal’s hand in marriage.”
“Hell take him,” you mutter. “Do I have time to beat him there?”
“Yes!” The boy gasps. “He’s busy talking and celebrating with the villagers.”
You call for a servant to fetch your donkey. You’ll be hanged before you see this upstart shepherd boy gain any more position in the palace. You can’t stand him, and that music he plays makes your flesh crawl.
As soon as the donkey is brought, you get on and kick your heels against his flanks until he starts of into a quick trot. From Saul’s pastures to the palace (which would more accurately be termed a backwater fort) is a fairly quick journey, and the servants admit you quickly, though with quite a few sideways glances. That, however, is an impertinence that you will have to deal with when you have the time. You are ushered into the throne room, where Saul sits, seemingly ready for an audience.
This is the most disturbing thing of late. King Saul has been confiding less and less to you about the whereabouts of David. Something he used to positively obsess over. You were sure to feed his hatred of David. As an Edomite (a descendant of Esau), you have long planned to usurp the land of Israel from its Hebrew inhabitants. You want to make it a land of Edomites, and you don’t really have a great plan for that, but you know that Saul’s rule is keeping them weak, so you’d vastly prefer that to David.
You kneel, placing your shepherd’s crook before you as if submissively offering it as a gift. “Oh King of All Israel, May you live forever!” You cry.
Saul gestures for you to approach him, and you realize that you need to figure out what it is that you want to suggest.
