Battle of HastingsFlagsHistoryPatriotismUnion Jack The smell of cooking fires filled my nostrils as I entered the Saxon camp. Women in wimples wove cloth and stirred pots. Soldiers in chain mail readied themselves, their axes and painted shields leaning against their tents. The Battle of Hastings would begin soon. I approached one of the soldiers, who peered down at me from beneath his helmet. “I’m rooting for you guys,” I said. “Thanks,” he said, and laughed before remembering he was in character.