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One fall day, on a hillside, on an island, in an obscure corner of an unfashionable continent, two armies clashed- the Englisc forces of Harold Godwinson and the Norman soldiers of William the Bastard. Throughout the day, the Normans tried to break the Englisc shield wall with archery fire and cavalry charges, but the Englisc held the line. Their tried and true tactics of interlocking shields seemed as if they could carry the day. As the day drew near its close, both armies were tired, and the result was still very much in doubt.

It was then that the hand of Fate showed itself.

The Norman cavalry, after yet another unsuccessful charge, began to retreat back down the hill. The Englisc soldiers made as if to charge after the cavalry they assumed was put to route, but Harold and his brothers, acting as his commanders, were able to maintain the discipline of the shield wall. Meanwhile, a rumor began to spread throughout the Norman army that William had fallen in the last charge. They began to panic. William rode among his men, showing he was alive to prove to them that he was still alive and in command.

However, the distracted commander did not notice that his grip on his horse’s reins was slacking. His horse miss-stepped and panicked. William tried to recover, but the powerful warhorse launched him from the saddle. The Bastard hit the ground, directly in front of a band of retreating knights. Unable to stop in time, the knights trampled their commander. William never stood back up again. His army, now without guidance, abandoned the field and fled back towards the coast.

The tired Englisc cheered their victory- they had accomplished a military triumph. They had driven back two invasions, and, for now, their island nation of Englaland was safe.

Little did they know that this victory would create ripples, and change the course of world history forever…
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