3 Chance to talk
Maciste was going to get treated like an enemy prince? Get real!
“On your fucking knees.”
Maciste was squinting in the glare. He could make out a half dozen soldiers, all eager. And that sergeant was tapping a murderous looking club against his leg.
“And NOW. Fuckhead.”
Maciste was at conflict with himself. If he was fighting for his arse, he’d give these idiots hell. His hands were free. The fight-back he’d given them before .. that was not half of what he’d do .. if he was keeping them out of his backside.
On the other hand, if they WERE taking him to Tiradates .. he ought to be rising above their vile nonsense. Impressing with his princely demeanour. Not getting into some tavern brawl with mindless morons.
He was in a fix. Dealing with the enemy’s scum here. He had come here to talk with his equal, with their general. But first he needed to get past these morons. Get them to take him to Tiradates.
He’d go along with all these threats and getting pushed around if that got him there. Then things would change for the better. Maciste made a decision. He’d play along. He went down to his knees. But if things took a turn for the worse … he’d give them hell.