A more shrewd historian than myself once reminded me that loyalty is the sort of thing usually more measurable in the breach than in the proof. The same lesson holds true for courage, which may well be more definable by its often unspoken counterpart, cowardice. An understanding of cowardice does not, of course, yield an immediate counter-image of courage. As William Miller's recent essay aptly demonstrates, combatants have long recognized that fear abounds even among those deemed courageous. A soldier of the American Civil War demanded to know in words that might still apply today: “What is a coward, anyhow? Cravens, and dastards, and poltroons, we know at sight. But who are the cowards? And how do we distinguish them from heroes? How does God tell?” Obviously, Roger of Howden felt he had a piece of the answer (or more correctly, he had found an answer in the Epistles of Seneca, whom he was quoting).