Maciste waited outside the locked gates. His heart was beating fast. What he was doing was risky, life-threatening. He knew what he was taking on, he understood the risks. It could cost him his life. Dearly. Painfully dear.
They were taking their time about getting the gate .. as if the security was some issue, they didn’t trust him. Small wonder, he didn’t trust these Parthian thugs either. And the way he looked .. the way he stood .. muscles bristling .. powerful build .. his appearance usually made the enemy twitchy.
Up above on the palisade two soldiers still bows notched .. covering him with their arrows. But he had come unarmed, deliberately. Besides – and if these cretins at the gate knew it, they’d really feel nervous. Maciste didn’t always need weapons. As deadly with his hands.
He was surrendering .. pretending to be his prince. “Prince Menander” was offering his freedom to set the hostages free. It meant great danger for him. But the welfare of his prince had to come first. That .. and continuing the fight-back against these invaders.