“I swear.”
“A priest of our order, under the same tutelage as Orondo, was thy literal father, while thy mother was a vestal selected from the Temple of Venus. Thy great-grandfather, grandfather and father were of the priesthood, and their wives were selected vestals. To the prophet, hierophant and high-priest was the divine self confided, and we were pledged to produce a ruler for this generation. We willed the conditions which gave thee birth and I must share thy joys and sorrows until such time as the Brotherhood releases me.”
“Then I am not of royal lineage—am not the son of Poseidon, Servitor of Atlantis?” There was pain and disappointment in Yermah’s voice.
“Thou art royal in the highest and best sense. Thou art immaculately conceived, as is the sun by the cosmic virgin, when he has been standing still in Capricornus. It is said everywhere that a dewdrop fell on thy virgin mother’s bosom, as she lay asleep in a sacred grove. Such was thy beginning.”
“Then he to whom I have rendered obedience is not in any sense my father?”
“No. Thou art a veritable sun-god, destined to be thrice born in this life.”
“Oh! Akaza, why speakest thou in riddles? Thrice born, indeed! How is it possible without death and rebirth?”
Akaza smiled at his impatience.
“I charged thee in the beginning to remember that there is a dual meaning to all labors that a candidate for the initiation must perform. Thou hast already had two births in this body, and art facing the third.”
Yermah could not conceal his astonishment.