The throne of King Solomon, the legend-weavers said, was a marvel of engineering and meaning. It was made entirely of gold, with thirty-three steps ascending to the seat. On every step stood pairs of golden beasts, and over the throne arched a canopy from which hung a golden chain, and from the chain a golden dove. The dove held in its beak a golden crown, and in the crown a gem that lit the whole world.
When Solomon placed his foot on the first step, a golden lion and a golden ox lifted their paws. On the second step stood a golden bear and a golden lamb. On the third, a panther and a kid. On the fourth, an eagle and a hart. On the fifth, a peacock and a cock. On the sixth, a hawk and a dove. Predator and prey, arranged in pairs, as if to say: in a just kingdom, the wolf lies down with the lamb already (Isaiah 11:6).
Facing the twelve lions on one side stood twelve golden eagles on the other, and on each lion’s lifted paw was engraved a verse of Torah urging the king to judge uprightly.
When Solomon ascended, hidden wheels turned and the animals assisted his climb. When he reached the top, the golden dove opened a small ark, drew out the scroll of the Torah, and laid it before him. And from that seat, with the Torah open across his knees, he judged the whole world.
The rabbis made the engineering unnecessarily elaborate on purpose. They wanted every ruler who heard the story to understand: a throne without a scroll is just furniture.