The great King Saul of Israel was sad, and the sorrow grew and grew until it spread abroad through the whole nation. Even it came to the simple folk who minded sheep and lived in the far hills.
"The mighty king is sad," said one who had come from a journey. And the people gathered about him and marveled that a king should sorrow.
"The king is sad," said the one. "He has traveled into the great desert, where nothing blooms and there are no rivers."
The people stood still and looked off over their stretching pastures, and heard the gush of water brooks.
"He sits alone in a dim tent, with his head in his hands," said the one. "His sword rests at his feet. The army goes no more to battle. The servants weep and pray, and strain their eyes over the burning sand, waiting."
"Waiting?" said the men.
"For one to come," said the other.
"Who shall come?" they asked together.
"The joy-bringer," said the man.