The king is sitting on a throne, in shape like a high-backed chair with a footstool before it.  The chair stands on lion’s feet, and the stool on bull’s feet, and both are made of gold.

By the king’s side sits the queen; her name was Damaspia, but we know little more of her in history, except that she died on the same day as her husband.  Behind the king and queen are the fan-bearers, and fly-flappers, and parasol-bearers, who are in constant attendance on their royal majesties, and around are the great officers of the household.

Fifteen thousand people ate the king’s food in that palace every day, but the king always dined alone.  It was very rarely that even the queen or the royal children were allowed to sit at the king’s table, which is probably the reason why Nehemiah mentions the fact that the queen was sitting by him.  Perhaps he hailed the circumstance as a proof that the king was in good humour that day, and would therefore be more likely to listen to his petition.  But no one who was not closely related to the king was allowed to sit at the royal table, even the most privileged courtiers sat on the floor and ate at his feet.

The feast has begun, and it is time for the Rab-shakeh to present the wine to the king.  He takes the jewelled cup from the table in the king’s presence, he carefully washes it, then he fills it with a specially rare wine, named the wine of Helbon, which was kept only for the king’s use.  This wine was made from a very fine growth of grapes, at a place in the Lebanon not far from Damascus, named Helbon.  Then Nehemiah pours a little wine into his left hand and drinks it, and then, lightly holding the cup between the tips of his fingers and thumbs, he gracefully presents it to the great monarch.

Artaxerxes glances at his cup-bearer as he rises from his knees, and at once notices something remarkable in his face.  Nehemiah is pale and anxious and troubled; his whole face tells of the struggle going on within, and the king cannot fail to perceive it.  Turning to the Rab-shakeh he asks:  ’Why is thy countenance sad, seeing thou art not sick? this is nothing else but sorrow of heart.’  ‘Then,’ says Nehemiah, ‘I was very sore afraid.’  It is no wonder that he was alarmed, for it was actually a crime, proscribed by law, for any one to look sad or depressed in the presence of a Persian king.  However heavy might be his heart, however sorrowful his spirit, he must cross the threshold of the palace with a smiling face, and show no signs in the king’s presence of the trouble within.  But Nehemiah’s face has betrayed him.  What will the king do?  Will he dismiss him from office?  Will he degrade him from his high position?  Will he punish him for his breach of court etiquette?  Or can it be that this is a heaven-sent opportunity in which he may make his request?  He answers at once: 

’Let the king live for ever:  why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers’ sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire?’