When Daniyyel announced we had visitors, I would ask their identities and determine whether or not I wished to grant them an audience. However, there was one occasion when Daniyyel seemed excited rather than neutral, although he was not so elated that he broke protocol.
"Show these men in at once!" I ordered, trying not to smile.
Three men, all of them about Daniyyel's age, came before my throne, touching their hands to their lips in deference as they bowed.
"May the king live forever!" one man greeted in Median.
"My king, live forever!" the second greeted, also in my native language.
The third man looked alarmed.
"Is there a problem?!" I demanded.
"May King Darius live forever!" he began. "I fear Your Majesty's servant was misinformed when asking his friends how to address his king in Your Majesty's native tongue."
"What phrase did they tell you?" I asked, trying to hide my amusement. "Never fear. We all commit errors when learning a new language."
The third man reluctantly replied, "'May the king grant Miykael a spotted kitten.'"
Daniyyel glared at the man I assumed to be Miykael, who stared at the ground as if unaware of the conversation, but I laughed heartily. Imagine an arrogant cat like Bagadata in Babylon! The one part of Susa I rejoiced to leave behind would prove inescapable!
"I will send a letter to Cyrus," I promised.
Miykael bowed and kissed his hand once more. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I've been a bit lonely ever since Zeev passed away a few years ago."
Seeing my puzzled glance, he quickly explained that Zeev had been the name of his dog. The two of them had been nearly inseparable. Their favorite activities had been going to the seaside for a few days to escape the pressures of life in court, enjoying the calls of birds who hunted fish and mollusks, watching the little crabs scurry across the sand. Often, Miykael would find newly hatched sea turtles, scoop them up in his very outer garment while leaving on his robe, and carry them to the water.
Another enjoyable pastime was taking walks through the forest. Zeev would sometimes bring back a hare, which Miykael was forbidden to eat, but he appreciated the kind gesture, and he would feed the meat to his dog.
"Was he part wolf?" I asked, proud of myself for remembering one of the Hebrew words Daniyyel had taught me a few days earlier.
"All wolf, Your Majesty," Miykael replied.
Daniyyel frowned, but he held his peace. Among Hebrews, the dog was not considered an acceptable animal. Some farmers might keep a dog to help herd sheep, or a family might keep one to amuse their children or guard the house, but most people preferred not to have one. I couldn't imagine how a people so dependent on sheep and goats would react to someone owning a wolf.
"Azarya owned a dog as well, but that was years ago," Miykael stated.
The first man who had spoken when the group had entered the room explained that his dog had been named Leviy, but when Azarya had been a very young child at the time, so he had mistakenly called the animal Lavi, a name that was far more acceptable for a cat.
"Looking back, I can't imagine what I was thinking!" Azarya concluded. "Yaaqov would turn in his grave if he knew I had named a dog after the son whose tribe gives us our priests!"
I remembered the story. Yaaqov had twelve sons, and there were twelve tribes of Yisrael. The priests came from the tribe of Leviy.
"You three didn't come to discuss your pets with me," I remarked.
"It is true, Your Majesty," the third man answered. "We journey to the capital of Babylonia a few times each year to discuss business with the king. We would have come sooner, but even though we're officially retired, we were all detained in other areas of the empire."
"And you are?"
"I am called Chananyah, Your Majesty," he replied.
I pretended to scowl. "Chananyah-Your-Majesty? Is that a suitable name in the king's presence?"
The men laughed.
"My trusted friend seemed quite eager to welcome you into my presence," I stated. "Do you know him?"
"Not at all," Miykael responded, but he sent Daniyyel a friendly smile, as two brothers might do when joking with each other.
Daniyyel explained that these three men were friends of his youth. They had journeyed from Yerushalayim to Babylon together, and several decades later, they were still close, more like family than friends.
"Then, before we discuss matters of state, I must make them my friends as well," I decided aloud.
"We would be honored, Your Majesty," Chananyah answered.
I asked them what they had done when they lived in Yerushalayim. Chananyah had taught children. His slightly tan skin and dark eyes suggested Egyptian ancestry generations ago, and even now, his gray hair was much darker than the light silver of that of his other two companions. I couldn't help but wonder if he by chance knew hieroglyphics. Surely the children had looked up to him, for he had a gentle spirit, but he was still quick to laugh.
Before age had turned it gray, Azarya had red hair, like the sun rising on top of his head. His father had been a baker, and on the day before every sabbath, they would take fresh loaves to the blind. They would even leave a basket outside the city walls for the lepers. He was perhaps the most sensitive and most cautious of the group, but the other men accepted him as their brother, looking past his faults as he so often had looked past theirs.
Miykael's hair had been the color of wheat, complimenting well his eyes the color of the sea. He loved reciting tales and learning other languages. Many people in Yerushalayim had believed he would grow into a wise man, an elder whose advice was often sought, or else he would be a renowned astronomer or a physician, but like his three friends, he had become a government official in a foreign land.
"But as Your Majesty can see," Miykael concluded, "it is fitting that I am no longer called the scholar, for Daniyyel is truly the wisest one among us."
Neither Miykael nor Chananyah had ever married, but Azarya had a wife and an adopted son. The three men had met each other and Daniyyel after their arrival in Babylon, having been strangers in Yerushalayim.
"How did four honest men like yourselves ever become government officials?" I wondered aloud. "You're not lions who ascend by tooth and claw."
I had no need to explain the metaphor of courtly life, for Daniyyel's friends had served with him for far longer than I had.
"I tire of this," I remarked before any of them could reply. "I prefer an unofficial audience with you. In the garden, perhaps?"
The three visitors readily agreed. I wasn't surprised. After all, I was the king. I could have proposed a meeting in the pigsty, and they would have readily agreed, but I would never dream of purposely causing honest men such great discomfort. Besides, their culture, or perhaps their God, taught that it was best to avoid pigs, animals who were ceremonially unclean, which I later came to understand as meaning "unacceptable as a sacrifice to God or food for humans."
When the men politely paid compliments to the garden, I nearly laughed. They were courteous enough to attempt a bit of sycophancy, but they had seen the gardens of the Babylonian palace far more often than I had. After all, they had lived in Babylon most of their lives, and I was still a recent arrival.
"Now tell me," I requested. "Tell me how you came to know our brother Daniyyel."
For a moment, I wondered if perhaps I had spoken out of place. After all, I had indirectly stated that I considered these men to be my distant relatives because of our mutual association with Daniyyel. Perhaps they did not yet know me well enough to accept me, even though their respect for my royal status was too great for them to say as much.
However, I could tell at once from their facial expressions that I needn't have worried. Daniyyel was a good man, a friend to many, and his friends shared his sense of hospitality. Unless I deliberately proved myself an enemy, these men would have been willing to accept my company even if I hadn't been their king.
Chananyah suggested we make ourselves comfortable while they told the story, so I called for cushions and refreshment. I was unsure if Daniyyel's friends willingly took wine, so I had my servants bring water as well. We lounged comfortably on cushions and helped ourselves to fruit and dessert dishes as the birds warbled in the trees and butterflies graced the flowers, and for that moment in time, I felt I had escaped the crushing pressure of my responsibilities as king. I was once more an ordinary man, no different than any other.
"Knowing Azarya, I'm surprised we don't have to perform this story," Miykael remarked. "He used to make us perform interpretations of Nebuchadnezzar's dreams."
"And you used to make up fictional anecdotes based on them," Azarya replied.
Chananyah rolled his eyes. After so many decades, he was used to the antics of his friends. While they helped themselves to more fruit, he began the tale, all four men taking turns explaining parts of it as they were so moved, and I found out why Daniyyel and his three friends were in such awe as they revered their God.