The course was entitled 'Military History: Theories and Practice.' It sounded more interesting than it actually was, being little more than a fairly sketchy survey of the most famous battles of the past. But the idea was to instill in the cadets at Davidson a healthy respect for the glory of war. Sometimes it worked; most times it didn't. But the course was required, so everyone had to take it.

Today, the Military History class, which included most of the members of Neff's platoon, was learning about Attila the Hun. The instructor, a tall, stringy man with straight black hair parted down the middle, was also the school chaplain. He taught wearing a tight clerical collar and a tweed jacket. His name was Budman.

Chaplain Budman had a deep personal interest in Attila, just as other people have in beloved authors or composers. When he read accounts of Attila's life and exploits, Chaplain Budman felt he could see beyond. the cold pages of history and into the soul of the man who had done those deeds. And what he thought he found was a deeply misunderstood man, a martyr, a man, in fact, not unlike himself.

‘The poor man,' Chaplain Budman was saying, 'is, of course, badly misinterpreted by history. You have to understand that Attila was considered a just ruler by his own people...'

Damien was the only one who was listening, which was odd since he had never done well in history, had indeed always felt some strange resistance to it. But over the past couple of months, he had found himself becoming more and more fascinated by the details of those who had lived and died many years ago.

'He was far less concerned with devastation,' the chaplain continued, 'than many of the conquerors before him or after him...'

Mark was having a good time with Teddy, who now made a point of sitting with the Thorns in class. Mark had just finished scribbling something on a piece of paper, and Teddy was doing everything he could to keep from giggling.

'In fact,' said Chaplain Budman, 'Attila was so keen on being educated that he invited many learned Romans into his court...'

Just then, Mark showed his piece of paper to Damien who, caught totally by surprise, immediately burst out laughing.

The chaplain stopped in mid-sentence. 'Who laughed?' he asked.

Damien stood up immediately. 'I did, Chaplain,' he said.

'Come here,' said Budman, 'and bring that piece of paper with you.'

Damien did as he was told.

Mark squirmed uneasily in his seat, feeling guilty. Teddy kicked him in the shins. 'Chicken!' he whispered.

The other students watched with that vague combination of pleasure and fear that arises any time a teacher and a fellow student collide.