Brennus’ jaw dropped to the floor as a fiery apparition took pride of place before the Emperor, its voice booming across the arena. The Iceni had only a basic grasp of Latin, but he recognised the ghostly figure was telling him to fight. Now this was too much for the mob. Some recognised Caesar, his name rocketed through the stands in a hysterical rush. Many simply fled at the sight, the Emperor darted from his chair and hid behind his guard as they ushered him away from the burning figure. A cold sweat ran down Brennus’ brow as he fought to master himself in the face of such ungodly machinations. Like any fighter, he concentrated on what he knew.

The chained man approached him, somehow covering over a hundred feet in a ‘few steps forward’ to stand about ten feet from Brennus. The Iceni hadn’t bothered to take a defensive stance up until this point, but with a flash of movement, the Brit punched forward with his left hand, throwing the left side of his body forward and releasing his hold over his large oval shield. He sent his shield flying straight at the man’s upper ankles, and in the follow up, passed over with his right foot and took hold of his spear in both hands ready for the thrust, which was to be determined by the chained man’s movements.