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Ryan Reynolds
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Narrator
See full terms@mintmobile.com previously on the Chosen People.
King Saul
Samuel, please. I. I have. I have sinned. I feared the people. I listened. I listened to them instead of God. But it was not my will. Please pour pardon. Pardon my sin. Return with me. Let me worship before the Lord.
Narrator
Saul's hands trembled. He lunged forward, grabbing Samuel's robe. The fabric tore.
King Saul
As you have torn my robe, so the Lord has torn the kingdom from you. He will give it to another. The Lord has already chosen him. He is a man that seeks after the heart of God more than the heart of the people.
David
My king. I am David, son of Jesse, at your service.
King Saul
I hear you. Your music calms the soul. Shepherd boy.
Narrator
David lifted his head.
David
Only the Lord can calm the soul, my king. The music I play is unto him. And in his delight peace pours forth.
King Saul
Huh, so you're a poet as well. The Lord's delight is fickle, boy. One day you have it, the other yet don't. Who is that warrior who fights like that?
Narrator
But deep down, he already knew. It was the shepherd from Bethlehem, Jesse's forgotten son. The boy who played the harp now wielded a sword and all of Israel would know his name.
Documentary Narrator
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Ryan Reynolds
Ryan Reynolds here from Mint Mobile with a message for everyone paying Big Wireless way too much. Please, for the love of everything good in this world, stop with Mint. You can get premium wireless for just $15 a month. Of course, if you enjoy overpaying, no judgments. But that's weird. Okay, one judgment anyway. Give it a try@mintmobile.com Switch upfront payment
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Narrator
David and Jonathan rode into Gibeah with their men, dust from the road still clinging to their cloaks and boots. The city shimmered in the war of springtime, its narrow streets bustling with merchants, soldiers, and servants preparing for the day's work. Saul's palace loomed above them, nearly finished, its stone walls adorned with banners bearing the Sigil of Israel's King. Gardens surrounded the palace, a sea of wildflowers and olive trees stretching out like an oasis amidst the heart stone. The breeze carried the scent of blooming petals through the air, and the soft rustling of leaves played like a melody, a sound David found more comforting than any harp.
Jonathan
I'm going to find my father and report on our victories. Do you want to come now?
David
You go on ahead. I'm gonna stay here and rest a bit.
Narrator
Jonathan rode ahead while David lingered, lingered near the garden's edge. He leaned against a wooden fence, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the rough grain as his gaze wandered past the olive groves. Then he saw her. Michal, Saul's youngest daughter, moved gracefully between the flowers, her hands brushing gently over their delicate style stems. She was a vision in the dappled sunlight, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her eyes bright with youthful curiosity. David felt his breath catch in his chest. The battlefield had never made his heart race quite like this. A sly grin tugged at the corner of David's mouth. From his belt he retrieved the a small olive, placing it carefully in the leather strap of his sling. With a practiced flick of the wrist, the olive shot through the air, rustling the leaves just above her head. Startled, Michal looked up, her eyes meeting his. David, the giant slayer, the warrior of Israel, now looked like a mere boy, grinning sheepishly from behind the fence. She blushed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I'm happy to see you alive, David. We were all worried about you.
David
I was never in any real danger. Jonathan had my back.
Narrator
Well, from what I hear, you had his as well. I'm grateful.
King Saul
And where is David? Bring me that boy.
Narrator
Saul's voice interrupted, sharp and commanding from within the palace walls. David turned to Mishal and chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his tangled curls.
David
I better be going. It was good seeing you, Michael.
Narrator
You too, David. With a final wave to Michal, he turned away, heading for the halls of the king. Michal leaned against the trunk of an olive tree, watching him go, a wistful smile playing on her lips. The giant slayer had captured more than just Israel's hearts. He had captured hers as well. But Mishaal, young and full of dreams, could not yet fathom the weight of David's destiny. How could she? David himself had yet to grasp the full measure of what was to come. Fate, like the wind through the olive trees, was already stirring. And soon everything would change.
King Saul
They're pressing dangerously close.
Narrator
Saul paced before his throne like a caged wolf. His broad shoulders were tense, his fingers curling into fists as he stalked back and forth. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the stone walls of the palace.
King Saul
Even after your victories, they march on with insolence. Arrogant swine. I'll not have philistine spears in the heart of our land. I'm sending you, David. Stop them. Show them what happens when they tread too close.
David
As you command, my king.
King Saul
Good lad.
Narrator
Saul nodded. But as he turned, his gaze fell upon the young warrior and froze. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, silence clung to the room like smoke. David's armor gleamed in the dim light. But it was not just any armour. Saul recognized it instantly. It was Jonathan's armour, his son's royal armor. His. A shadow flickered across saw's face, darker than any cast by the torches.
King Saul
Tell me, shepherd boy, do you fancy yourself a prince now?
Narrator
David lifted his head and glanced at Jonathan. He bowed his head in respect.
David
Of course not, my king. I am your servant and nothing more.
King Saul
Then why do you wear my son's armor? Was it one off? A game of dice? Has Jonathan become ill and unable to march as my heir?
Narrator
Before David could speak, Jonathan, who had stood silent in the shadows, stepped forward swiftly.
Jonathan
It was my gift. Father, David saved my life more than once in our last skirmish. Without him, the Philistines would have overrun us. Without him, I would be dead. I owe him my life. And Israel owes him our victories.
Narrator
For a moment, the fire in Saul's eyes dimmed. His fury, always simmering beneath the surface, wavered in the face of his son's words. Slowly, his clenched fists relaxed, and with an indifferent wave of his hand, he dismissed David.
King Saul
If you are as brave as my son claims, then go. Halt the Philistines or do not return.
Narrator
David bowed once more, saying nothing. He knew better than to press his luck. Without another word, he turned and left the throne room, his footsteps echoing down the long hall. Saul sat back heavily on his throne, gripping the cup beside him. The wine was bitter, but not as bitter as the venom now seeping into his heart. The whispers began again, faint at first, but growing louder with every passing moment. The tormenting spirit that plagued him had returned, slithering through his mind like a serpent.
King Saul
He wears your son's armor. He takes your victories. He wins the hearts of your people. Soon he'll take your throne.
Narrator
Saul's knuckles turned white around his cup. His breathing grew shallow. Jealousy coiled around his heart like thorns in a garden, choking out wrinkles, reason and feeding on his insecurities.
King Saul
The giant slayer. The shepherd. The shepherd boy. The hero of Israel.
Narrator
Saul's lips curled into a scowl. His eyes burned with a new resolve. The throne would be his or no one's. David led his band of hardened men through the dusty hills south of Gilgal, where word had come that the Philistines lurked like wolves near the villages. He moved with a restless energy. Many of the men often found it hard to keep up with him. As they ascended the hills, they were met with an unexpected advance from the Philistines. They must have gotten word that David was marching.
King Saul
Attack, attack with heart.
Narrator
Don't hold back. The shepherd boy ran ahead of his men. Intent on landing the first blow. He leapt forward and met two Philistines with the edge of his blade. He rolled, slashed, and jabbed forward with the grace of a veteran. But David was still young. He had yet to learn the intricacies of combat. That's where his relative Joab came in handy. Joab, along with his brothers Abishai and Arsahel, were the sons of David's sister. But Joab was older and more experienced than David and his younger brothers. He stopped by David's side, aiding in the nuanced elements of warfare.
King Saul
David, duck.
Narrator
Joab caught David's attention just in Time for him to dodge an enemy mace. The Philistine barely missed. David shifted his feet, changed the position of his sword, and thrust it backward into the enemy's stomach. Blood spurted, followed by a groan and crash.
David
Thanks for having my back, Joab.
King Saul
Of course. I'll lead a small company up the reach. You secure the valley.
Narrator
David nodded and led his men forward. His strikes were swift and deliberate, each blow falling like the stroke of a master painter's brush, measured and precise. There was poetry in his violence, grace in his fury. The Philistines never stopped, stood a chance. One by one, they fell. Those who remained turned and fled, their war cries melting into panicked screams as they vanished into the hills. David stood among the bodies, breathless but unbroken, his tunic torn and bloodied, though little of it was his own. He wiped his brow, smiling through the ache in his bones. Victory tasted sweet, and sweeter still was the knowledge that he had protected his people. The shepherd had become the defender of Israel. Tales of the giant slayer now echoed from the grandest whores of Gibeah to the humblest villages in the hills. David returned to Gibeah. His muscles screamed for rest, and the cuts on his arms stung with every movement, yet his heart was light. He had fought, bled, and triumphed for Israel, and in doing so, he had brought glory to his king, to his people, and to his God. As David and his men neared the gates, a clamor reached their ears. David. David's hand instinctively fell to the hilt of his sword. He and Joab exchanged weary glances.
David
What's that sound? Is Gibeah being attacked?
King Saul
I don't think that's the sound of war. David, listen.
Narrator
The noise was not the sound of panic or war. It was something else entirely. Cheers, laughter, music. David furrowed his his brow and quickened his pace. As they passed through the gates. The sight that met him made him stop in his tracks. The streets were filled with people. Men, women, and children lined the roads, waving their arms and calling his name. Lutes and tambourines rang out in joyous harmony. The air was thick with the scent of crushed flowers and the smoke of burning incense. David. They cried. David the giant slayer. David the deliverer of Israel. His men beamed with pride, but David stood frozen, bewildered by the overwhelming display. From the palace steps, a procession of women danced gracefully, tambourines in hand, their laughter bright and melodic. They sang a song.
Documentary Narrator
Song.
Narrator
One that rippled through the crowd like wildfire. Saul has slain his thousands, but David his ten thousands. It was in the same tune that they had once sang. Saul's name. But now the melody rang as an anthem to David's courage. The words echoed from the highest terraces to the deepest alleyways, carried from by every voice young and old. David's breath caught in his throat. A song for him. He was but a shepherd boy from Bethlehem, a forgotten son of Jesse. Now they sang his name alongside the kings, and not just alongside, but above. His smile faltered for a moment, not for pride or arrogance, but for fear of what such praise might stir in the heart of the one man whose favor he wished never to lose.
David
This doesn't mean anything good for me, does it?
Narrator
I'm afraid not.
King Saul
You're the new hero of Israel, and
Narrator
that means Saul isn't. The melody drifted through the corridors like a ghost, uninvited and relentless. Saul has slain his thousands, but David his ten thousands. It seeped beneath doors, through cracks in the stone walls and into Saul's chamber like the whisper of a serpent. At first he tried to ignore it, clenching his jaw until his teeth ached. But the song gnawed at him, each note a thorn burrowing deeper into his pride. Saul has slain his thousands, but David his ten thousands. Saul pushed open the balcony doors and stepped into the night air. Below him, the streets of Gibeah pulsed with life. Torches flickered like stars amidst the the throng of jubilant citizens. They cheered, they laughed, and worst of all, they sang, Saul has slain his thousands, but David his ten thousands. The words twisted in Saul's gut like a knife. His dark and brooding eyes searched the crowd until they found him. David. The boy was lifted high upon the shoulders of his men, grinning that infuriating grin. His curls were tousled by the wind and his eyes were alight with a joy that Saul had long forgotten. The people adored him, worshipped him. A shadow fell across Saul's face. Something bitter and vile coiled around his heart, squeezing his tighter with every beat. Jealousy, cold and sharp, seeped into his veins. His lips parted and a faint whisper escaped into the night.
King Saul
I hate them. I hate them.
Narrator
The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but they felt true.
King Saul
They cheerful for him, not for you.
Narrator
Saul's knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the balcony. His breathing grew shallow, ragged. The king who once stood head and shoulders above all Israel now felt small, diminished by the shadow of a shepherd boy. His mind raced, poisoned by dark thoughts that moved quicker than he could contain.
King Saul
He will take it from me, my. My kingdom, my throne, my legacy. I will not let him. I will not let him.
Narrator
The king turned sharply, retreating into the shadowed confines of his chamber. The melody outside persisted, haunting him still. His boots echoed on the stone floor as he paced back and forth, back and forth like a caged beast. Every step fueled his resentment. Every breath stoked the flames of paranoia. His mind became a forge where every fleeting thought hammered David's name into something darker, something lethal. His eyes flicked to the far wall, where a single spear hung above his bed. Slowly, deliberately, Saul crossed the room. His fingers traced the smooth wooden shaft before curling around it tightly. The room felt suffocatingly still, save for the song that clawed at the edges of his his mind. Saul has slain his thousands, but David, his ten thousands. The king turned toward the closed door. He could still hear them. Their laughter, their song, their praise for David.
King Saul
Today.
Narrator
A low growl rumbled from Saw's throat. His grip tightened around the spear, veins bulging against his skin. With a roar born of frustration and wounded pride, Saul hurled the spear across the room. It sliced through the air like a viper's strike, embedding itself deep into the wooden door with a resounding crack that echoed through the chamber. The door splintered under the force, jagged pieces falling to the floor like broken promises. Saul stood there, chest heaving, eyes wide and unblinking. The tormenting spirit, ever lingering, coiled tighter around him, whispering poison into his ear. The morning sun cast thin beams through the high windows of Saul's throne room, illuminating the dust that floated through the stale air. David sat cross legged beside the firelight, cradling his harp as he plucked at the strings, each note soft and deliberate. He glanced up as the heavy doors creaked open. Saul entered like a shadow passing over the room. His eyes were sunken, sleepless, and his brow furrowed as though he carried the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders alone. In his hand, a spear rested, not lazily, but with intention. David bowed low. The king sneered at the gesture. Saul settled into his throne, his fingers curling around the spear's shaft like a serpent coiling around its prey. The silence between them stretched taut as a drawn bowstring.
David
Good morning, my king.
Narrator
Saul tilted his head, his lips curling into something between a smile and a grimace.
King Saul
And what makes it good, boy? Have you brought me tidings worthy of such pleasantries?
David
Yes, my lord. Your servant did as you commanded. We met the philistine raiders before they could strike the villages. We vanquished them all. It was your wisdom that guided us swiftly and your foresight that ensured victory.
King Saul
Ah, spare me your formalities and flattery.
Narrator
Saul leaned forward, his voice low and biting.
King Saul
They may call you the Giant Slayer. They may sing your praises. You May wear my son's armor, but never forget you are still my servant, my musician. Nothing more.
Narrator
David's childhood had made him immune to such treatment. His father would be tender one moment and harsh the next. His brothers either treated him with contempt or indifference. David had learned to serve despite others treatment of him. A noble quality that could most definitely grow toxic if not kept in check.
David
As you say, my king. Would you have me play for you?
Narrator
Saul flicked his hand dismissively, and David began to strum. The notes rose and fell like waves. Each chord was a plea for peace, each melody a whisper to the heavens. It was not just music. It was prayer. And though Saul's soul was cloaked in darkness, the the music tugged at what little light remained within him. The fire flickered, casting shadows across Saul's face. His lips trembled, his mind drifting to a time when the world was simpler, when Samuel stood beside him and God's favor rested upon him like a crown of unseen glory. But that voice, that guiding hand, had long since abandoned him. Now there was only silence. Silence. And the boy whose presence gnawed at him like a thorn in his flesh. David played on, eyes closed, lost in the music, Saul stared into the fire, his thoughts a tempest.
King Saul
Why did you send him bones to torment me? To mock me with what I have lost?
Narrator
Every note from David's harp felt like a dagger twisting in his chest. Where Saul's pride stood tall. David's humility cast a shadow, and it was unbearable. His hand tightened around the spear.
King Saul
You could end this right now.
Narrator
Saul rose from his throne, the spear held firmly in his grasp. David's eyes fluttered open just as Saul whispered under his breath.
King Saul
Pin him to the wall.
Narrator
The spear flew, cutting through the air with a deadly hiss. David lunged to the side, crashing into a table as the spear struck the stone wall behind him with a loud thunk. Saul's scream tore through the room, guttural and raw, as he reached for another sphere.
King Saul
You think you could steal my kingdom, boy? He'll stop singing your name once you're dead.
Narrator
No. David scrambled to his feet as the second spear sailed toward him. He ducked low, but not fast enough. A sharp sting tore across his shoulder, warm blood soaking through his tunic. Saul was already reaching for a third spear when David darted to the window. He leaped through it, landing in the in the dewy grass below with a heavy thud. He didn't look back. In the throne room, Saul stood motionless, the final spear trembling in his hand. The fury that consumed him moments before drained away, replaced by a crushing weight of regret and self loathing. His grip loosened and the spear clattered to the floor.
Ryan Reynolds
Floor.
Narrator
The king sank to his knees beside the fire, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The boy was gone, just like Samuel, just like God's favor. Outside, David clutched his bleeding shoulder as he staggered toward the stables. He pressed his back against the wooden door, breathing hard, willing his heartbeat to steady. Blood trickled down his arm, but the wound was shallow. It would heal. David peered through the window. There he was, the mighty King of Israel, hunched over, his face buried in his hands, shoulders trembling with grief. David's heart ached at the sight. Despite the betrayal, despite despite the attempt on his life, he saw not a monster, but a broken man, tormented and alone. David sighed and turned away from the window, retreating into the shadows. Tomorrow he would return to the throne room. The king needed him, needed his music, his presence. Even now, David would not abandon him.
Production Credits Narrator
This prey.com production is only made possible by our dedicated team of creative talents. Steve Catina, Max Bard, Zach Shellevaga and Ben Gammon are the executive producers of the Chosen People. Narrated by Paul Coltofianu. Characters are voiced by Jonathan Cotton, Aaron Salvato, Sarah Seltz, Mike Reagan, Stephen Ringwald, Sylvia zaradoch, Thomas Copeland Jr. Rosanna Pilcher and Mitch Leschinsky. Music by Andrew Morgan Smith. Written by Aaron Salvato, Bree Rosalie and Chris Baig. You can hear more prey.com productions on the prey.com app available on the Apple App Store and Google Play Store. If you enjoyed the Chosen People, please rate and leave a review.
The Chosen People – “Saul Attacks David”
Host: Pray.com
Date: May 26, 2026
This episode of The Chosen People delves into one of the most dramatic and psychologically rich sections of the Old Testament: King Saul’s growing jealousy of David and his attempt on the young hero’s life. Through evocative narration and intimate character portrayals, the episode explores the human struggle with envy, divine favor, and the burden of destiny. Listeners are drawn into the narrative with immersive soundscapes and dialogue, offering contemplation on leadership, humility, and the cost of greatness.
“Only the Lord can calm the soul, my king. The music I play is unto him. And in his delight peace pours forth.” — David (01:37)
“Tell me, shepherd boy, do you fancy yourself a prince now?” — Saul (09:54)
“This doesn’t mean anything good for me, does it?” — David (18:45)
“I hate them. I hate them.” — Saul (20:59)
“He will take it from me, my. My kingdom, my throne, my legacy. I will not let him.” — Saul (21:42)
“Pin him to the wall.” — Saul (28:47)
“Despite the betrayal, despite the attempt on his life, he saw not a monster, but a broken man, tormented and alone.” — Narrator (30:49)
The episode blends epic, scriptural language with psychological depth and vivid description. It conveys the drama and tragedy of Saul’s decline and David’s rise, but always with empathy—even for the story’s “villain.” The narration often pauses for reflection, shining a light on universal human struggles—envy, fear, loyalty, and the quest for grace.
In “Saul Attacks David,” The Chosen People brings the Old Testament narrative to life as both a gripping historical drama and a meditation on the complexities of faith and leadership. The episode’s immersive style and nuanced characterization invite listeners to ponder the enduring relevance of these ancient stories in wrestling with pride, fate, and forgiveness.