can some one tell me a real war that happnned in the middle-ages?

Question

about kights

Answer 1

The Crusades
The Norman Conquest of England
The Hundred Years War
The Wars of the Roses
English Civil War
The Thirty Years War
Islamic Conquest of Spain and Invasions of Europe
Bohemian Civil War
German Civil War
Teutonic Knights War with Poland
Portuegeuse Conquest of Cueta
Mongol Conquests
Chinese Civil War
Khmer-Thai Wars
Burmese Civil War
Russian Civil War
Hungarian-Turkish War
Turkoman Ottoman War
Albanian-Turkish War
Scandinavian War under Christian I
Austro-Swiss War
Franco-Burgundian Wars
Burgundian-Swiss War
Portugeuse-Morocco War
Byzantine - Ottoman Turk War
Japanese Civil War
Vietnamese-Cham War
Spanish Christian - Muslim War
Castillian Civil War
Danish-Swedish War....

.....the list goes on and on and on and on and on.....

Answer 2

The Hundred Years War

Answer 3

Agincourt - English against the French, Oct 25, 1415.
Shakespeare tells the story in his play "Henry V" (which was made into a pretty good movie with Kenneth Branagh).

Here is the speech King Henry makes to the troops before the battle in the play (note the use the term "Band of Brothers" near the end):

WESTMORELAND:
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!

KING:
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered -
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.