The Music-maker, the Warrior, the friend of God.

Chapter 2

Saul dreaded the fact that the tormentous spirit of depression might fall upon him at any time. He called his most trusted advisors and demanded that they find a cure for his condition, offering punishment if they failed, and great rewards if they were successful.

Meeting behind closed doors they argued amongst themselves, angry with their king for putting them in such a situation.
Now one of the men, named Jarvin, nephew of Abner, Saul's Commander of his army, stood to one side and surveyed the confusion taking place before him.  Stepping forward, he raised his voice, "Lords of the King's court, fellow advisors....please, please calm yourselves.  We are not doctors, we are not masters of medicine, so why seek a solution in a field we know nothing about!  We are all learned men, otherwise we would not hold the positions that we do.  So let us think rationally, and apply our minds to who we know, and not what we know.

The blank looks on the faces of the men assembled there would have discouraged most speakers, but Jarvin was smiling to himself, knowing that he had both their attention and the upper hand, he continued ; " In my travels around Bethlehem, and as is my custom, keeping my ear to the ground, I have come to hear of a lowly shephard boy, who's mastery of both the lyre and the flute is quite extraordinary.  In fact they say that when he plays, and sings, babies stop crying, dogs stop barking and come and lie at his feet, young maidens swoon, the sick forget their pain and tears roll down old men's cheeks.
Fellow advisors, would such a musical artist not be able to drive away the demons that torment our king?  What say you? Shall we not this day....no!...this very hour, send envoys to the father of this protégé, bearing gifts to convince him to let his son join us here at court, and play for the king."

The room erupted again, but this time with one voice, they agreed with and praised the young man, who had, single handedly, saved their necks.  Jarvin smiled, raising his hand in acknowledgement.  Under his breath he muttered, "You all owe me, my fickle friends "
Someone must have read his mind.  One of the assembly held up his hand, indicating that he wanted to speak.  As the noise slowly abated, the old adviser exclaimed, " We owe you many thanks, young Jarvin.  If your plan works, and pray to God it does, you have spared us from having our heads, severed from our bodies, thrown into the streets for the street urchins to kick around like some hideous balls!