Heir of Aurelian

Chapter 17 Escaping Bondage

While his mother did everything that she could to secure his ransom, Marcellus was sitting within the Bagaudae encampment plotting his escape. For the past few weeks Marcellus had been held captive, where he was bound, gagged, and locked away in a small cage, while tied to a post. Since the moment he entered this cage, forced to fester in his own waste, he had been working on a way to abscond from the brigand camp.

After weeks of silently chiselling a small stone against the iron cage, Marcellus had sharpened it enough to cut through his rope bindings. However, Marcellus was a patient man and knew that he needed to wait for the opportune moment to break free from his bondage, and tonight was such an occasion.

In particular, Marcellus was waiting for a cold, cloudy night, with a hint of rain. Since the moment Marcellus was taken prisoner, he had carefully observed the Bagaudae patrols, and had learned when and how they shifted. He knew that on nights such as this, when the rain fell from the heavens, most of the guards would abandon their duties and get pissed drunk, leaving a single sentry to watch over Marcellus.

This lone sentry was Marcellus’s target, and for some time now he had been verbally harassing the poor kid all in an attempt to provoke him into entering his cage. Thus, Marcellus grinned wickedly as the other Bagaudae departed, leaving him alone with this young man.

“Well, well, all alone, with only me to keep you company, yet again. Have you ever considered that what you do in life is utterly meaningless…”

A visible expression of disdain etched itself upon the lone sentry’s face as he heard these words. Which was followed by a sigh that escaped his lips as he uttered the same phrase he used every time he was unfortunate enough to be alone with Marcellus._.

“Piss off!”

Marcellus smirked in the shadows as he heard this. He could tell the man was frustrated with his lot in life, and thus he acted without mercy as he continued to goad the guard.

“Not in a talkative mood tonight? Eh, I don’t blame you. While you’re stuck looking after me, your buddies are out feasting and fucking to their heart’s content. I’ve seen the hot pieces of ass you guys keep around as your prisoners. Tell me, are you still a virgin?”

When the guard heard this, he halted in his actions of drinking from his cup and instead looked over at Marcellus with a fierce gaze.

“If you know what’s good for you, you will shut your trap right now…”

Marcellus knew he had struck a nerve with this statement, and thus decided now was the time to go in for the kill. He feigned his surprise when he heard this retort and continued to taunt the sentry with venomous words.

“No… you can’t be… are you really? Hahaha, the mighty Bagaudae warrior is a fucking virgin! You poor sap, your friends won’t even let you have their sloppy seconds. My god you are pathetic… I may be tied here to a post covered in my own shit, but out of the two of us, you are the real loser!”

It was at this moment something snapped inside the sentry’s mind. Perhaps it was because of the repeated harassment he suffered every time he was forced to watch Marcellus alone, or perhaps he was simply too intoxicated to care. However, the man responded exactly as Marcellus has planned.

The sentry rolled his neck back and forth, emitting a few popping sounds as he stood up and walked over to the cage, where he opened it up with a vicious glare in his eyes. He approached Marcellus with a club in his hand, prepared to strike the young general.

“I told you to shut up!”

However, much to the man’s surprised Marcellus had freed himself, and before he realized this, the Roman General had pounced on him, tackling the man to the ground and covering his mouth as he used his sharp rock to cut open the man’s throat. Within seconds the sentry passed away, and Marcellus scurried out of his cage, grabbing hold of the man’s club as he stealthily made his way to the horses.

The Stables were on the other side of the Camp, and it was because of this that he had to be extra cautious as he moved his way through the dark alleys, hoping not to be spotted. Eventually Marcellus came across a group of drunk guards who were complaining about some of their prisoners.

“The bitch is pregnant… What the hell are we going to do with her now?”

As the sentry said this, he took a swig from his ale before listening to suggestions from the other men beside him. A tall and lanky man commented on the loss of coin that would result from this incident.

“Shit, her value has completely dropped now that she carries one of our kids. It’s unlikely her family will even bother paying the ransom for a used up whore like her.”

The first sentry scowled when he heard this, this was bad news in his mind. However, before he could respond, a chuckle resounded in the air, causing the two sentries to look over at the third man in the group. He was a short and fat man, with a nose that resembled a pig, and he seemed to be quite overjoyed by the news of the prisoner’s pregnancy.

“Well, if her family doesn’t want her back, then we can keep the little whore as our camp’s pet. I’m sure someone here would be happy to raise the bastard to be one of us.”

Marcellus was furious when he listened to the banter between the three brigands. Had he allowed Sigefrida to be taken captive, these men, among many others, would have gang-raped her before he could mount a proper rescue. He knew in his heart that he had done the right thing in taking her place, even if it meant thoroughly ruining his reputation back home.

The sentries were so engaged in their discussion that they did not notice Marcellus sneaking up behind them, where he wielded the club in his hand with brutal efficiency. His first strike immediately cracked his target’s skull, sending him to the afterlife in an instant.

As for the others before they could even react, Marcellus had set upon them, beating them to the ground and breaking their jaws while bashing their heads as if he was playing a game of whack a mole until only a bloody pulp remained. After killing these men, Marcellus spit on their corpses and uttered his contempt.

“Fucking bastards!”

After saying this, he dragged the bodies away into the alley, and hid them in barrels, making sure the other guards could detect no sign of his murder; stripping their bodies of their gear before he did so. Marcellus quickly dressed himself as a member of the Bagaudae and walked through the camp to the stables as if there were nothing out of the ordinary.

Though a few men spotted him, he kept his head down and nodded towards them. Being in the intoxicated state that these men were in, none of them even thought of the possibility that perhaps he was their most valuable prisoner who was in the middle of his escape. After passing through a clearing with relative ease, Marcellus finally made his way into the stables, where a few prize steeds were resting.

He quickly approached the largest of the horses and prepared it for the journey to Rome. He placed a saddle on its back before sticking a bridal in its mouth. However, just when he was about to mount the brilliant steed, someone stumbled into the stables and spotted his escape attempt. This brigand immediately recognized Marcellus for the man he was and withdrew his sword while calling out to his nearby comrades.

“Help! The Roman General is escaping!”

Marcellus quickly charged at the man with his club in hand. But it was quickly deflected. Just as the hostile was about to slash towards Marcellus’ neck, the young General shoved him into the wall before bringing his club down onto his iron helmet. A loud ring filled the air, but that did not stop Marcellus from beating his opponent’s helmet until a giant dent had formed, and the man collapsed to the ground in a drooling mess.

Having removed this obstacle, Marcellus did not hesitate to the mount the steed as he snapped the reins, sending the horse propelling out of the stables and into the camp where men were gathering in an attempt to halt his escape.

Rather than engage them, Marcellus charged through their poorly formed ranks and towards the wooden gate which was rapidly closing. In a desperate attempt to stop Marcellus from escaping, a few archers lined up and fired their missiles at the horse that the Roman General rode upon. However, the magnificent steed was a step ahead and jumped through the closing gates just before the arrows could pierce its hide.

Upon realizing that his escape attempt was successful, Marcellus howled like a madman as he absconded into the night, like a thief fleeing the scene of his crime. By the time the Bagaudae could muster their cavalry to chase after him, he was already long gone.