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"For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me." - Psalm 51:5
From the moment Saul realized that he had fallen out of God's favor, he knew it was only a matter of time until his reign ended. Sometimes he thought the worst part was not knowing how long he had left. At other times he thought the worst part was that he had managed to displease God. Only when he was alone and undistracted did he yield to the small voice in his head that told him the very worst part was that he did not really care what God thought of him as long as he stayed in power.
There was a short period during which Saul knew the truth and no one else did. He did his best to put a good face on it, knowing that his people would not think to question him. Even Samuel, who usually hung around court seeing too much and saying even more, did not seem to realize at first. Saul could not explain how he knew; it had simply come to him one day, out of the blue but with the solidity of fact. For a man who had once pleased God so much that the deity chose him to rule the nation, it was probably easy enough to tell when such great favor had been withdrawn.
Saul lived in horror of the day when Samuel would notice, because Samuel was one of the few people whom Saul had found could not be bought off or otherwise silenced. Saul would have done a great deal to gag Samuel, but he could not bring himself to kill the prophet. Saul could wreak vengeance with a clear conscience upon soldiers, upstarts, or those who simply annoyed him, but he was not so far gone as to murder a prophet of the Lord. So he waited with sick dread for the prophesy that Saul assumed would remove him from the throne and set some pompous, pious bastard in his place. He might be lots of bad things, Saul told himself, but at least he wasn't pompous.
When the axe fell, it came with the twisted logic that Saul should have come to expect from his Lord God. In the end, God did not tell Samuel to remove Saul from the throne; he merely appointed a successor, and in this way it was really a beginning rather than an end. Saul was only mildly put out that God would choose the same soldier who had once felled Saul's greatest opponent with a pebble; mostly he was just peeved because David was so perfect. The future king was tall and athletic with the curly hair and rosy cheeks of a young man in the bloom of good health. He was deferential to his superiors but cheerfully aware of his good looks and bountiful talents. It was no wonder that Jonathan took to him from the moment he laid eyes on the young man. Saul thought he probably would have fancied David himself if David had not been sent to undermine Saul. As it was, Saul kept him close in order to keep an eye on him.
It was not hard to trump up reasons to keep David at arm's distance. For a while Saul was content to let him tag along after Jonathan or to let him go home occasionally to bond with the family sheep. Saul liked to send him away at a moment's notice because it showed who was in charge. Of course, it was excellent for his image as well because his whim looked like benevolence. The only problem was that after a time Saul realized he needed David.
That night he had sent Rizpah away to sleep in her own room; he hated cuddling and fawning and liked to take his pleasure and leave it at that. As he lay in his own bed, he first tossed and turned, the room felt alternately hot and cold, and then his mind began to race. Guilt and fear rose like bile until he felt cocooned in the feeling, smothering as the blankets he threw aside in his restlessness. How had he done God wrong? Had he not led the Israelites in battle, preserved religious traditions, defended the Lord's people, and offered pleasing and fragrant sacrifices? It was not his fault he was only human -- perhaps God was impossible to satisfy.
Saul was no stranger to doubt and anger, but tonight he could not rid himself of their torment. The more he paced the floor -- the more he tried to drive the thoughts from his mind -- the more they closed in on him. When he could bear it no longer, he flung himself into the corridor. An oil lamp burned in a niche in the wall, illuminating the Ammonite slave who stood guard outside Saul's chamber. The boy shook with fright when Saul came bursting out, but he stayed long enough to obey Saul's order to fetch someone with his wits to him.
Saul's steward arrived with alacrity, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and bowing at the same time. "Lord, you are ill," he observed.
"I am not ill!" Saul roared, balling up the blankets he had found so oppressive and flinging them at the man.
"You are troubled then," the steward suggested.
Saul began to pull at his beard with fretful fingers. "Do I look troubled?"
"It is an evil spirit, " the steward said with sudden illumination. "You cannot sleep because a spirit troubles you."
"Then get it out!" Saul howled. "Get it out of me!"
"My lord, I cannot -- "
"Of course you cannot, you fool, you son of a camel!"
"But I know who can!"
Saul reeled on him. "Who? Who are you hiding who has the power to drive out demons?"
The steward cowered only a very little bit. "It is David, my lord. David plays the harp and it soothes even the most afflicted. I have heard him myself."
Saul snarled at him. "I don't believe you."
"But it is true, my lord! I will prove it to you. Boy!" He caught the slave's arm. "Fetch David son of Jesse."
Saul stood in front of the open window, clenching and unclenching his hands while his brain seemed to uncoil. He thought he must have stood there in the cool night air for an eternity before he heard footsteps and David's voice said, "My lord?" He was deferential and confident all at the same time, and that was probably what made everyone except Saul like him so much. He sat down in the corner and carefully rested his harp against his knee. But when he started playing, Saul forgot his resentment. The music wove around him, it wrapped him up, it replaced the heavy muffling fear with something light and airy, a calm softer than silk. Saul slid to the floor, his back against the wall, his hands resting awkwardly on his knees, and began to cry. Great sobs tore out of him, loosened by the music and carrying everything bad out of Saul and into the night air.
David glanced up when the king first started weeping, but his fingers were sure on the strings and he did not miss a note. After a while it seemed to Saul that David was matching the music to his tears, a rising melody with a rising sob, a softer harmony for the ragged breaths Saul drew. Finally David slowed, quieted, and stopped. He sat in silence for quite a while longer while Saul, now calm, stood up and moved to his bed. He felt sleep coming, sweet and refreshing, and he welcomed it now that his spirit was at peace.
At long last David stood up. Saul heard him shuffle his feet, probably stretching cramped legs and sore fingers. Then there was stillness before Saul David spoke, very softly in the darkness. "Sleep well, my lord." Then the gentle thud of the door and Saul was alone. But even in the stupor of oncoming sleep, Saul knew that he would never be alone again -- for better or for worse, he needed David, needed him as God needed this future king, and Saul could no longer afford to keep him distant. Just as Saul had known when he lost God's favor, he now knew this terror -- what his steward had called an evil spirit -- would not be banished with just one night of music. Saul could not preserve his throne if he did not preserve his sanity, and he would fast lose that if David did not come, as he had come this night, to chase away the demons in Saul's mind with his sweet, simple music. In this way David would help to keep Saul on the same throne David hoped to one day occupy. Even as sleep- and music-drugged as he was, Saul spared a moment to laugh over that little twist of fate. It as a twist, he thought, worthy of God Himself.