Sharpe's command Richard Sharpe and the Bridge at Almaraz, May 1812

Spain, 1812. Captain Richard Sharpe is on a dangerous undercover mission behind enemy lines. Two French armies are about to merge into one giant fighting force and march against the British. It will almost certainly spell disaster for the British. What can Sharpe and his small band of soldiers possibly do to turn certain defeat into victory or, at the very least, survival? Chronologically, in terms of the series, this new Sharpe novel slots in between two early installments from the start of the 1980s, Sharpe's Company and Sharpe's Sword. Stylistically, it's indistinguishable from those novels, and Sharpe is exactly the man we remember him to be from that time period, experienced and war-weary but perhaps not yet as jaded as he will become. Cornwell, who recently wrapped up his Last Kingdom series, which focused on the early history of Britain, has never let his fans down, and regular readers of the Sharpe novels have been eagerly awaiting this one's arrival.

The latest novel in Cornwell's series about rifleman Richard Sharpe (following Sharpe's Assassin) depicts the protagonist as a major in Wellington's army, doggedly pursuing England's enemies across Europe in the Napoleonic Wars. Advancing into Spain, General Hill's troops are faced by two French armies, one north of the River Tagus, and the other south. Separately they're manageable, but if combined, they'll overwhelm Hill's forces. A pontoon bridge crossing the Tagus at Almaraz is the only way they can be joined. Sharpe is sent ahead to destroy the bridge with a ragtag troop of riflemen, assisted by one cannonry expert and surrounded by enemy forts and hundreds of Frenchmen on both sides of the river. Without meretricious psychologizing, Cornwell makes his characters come alive. Sharpe is no superman, but he converts his fears in battle into prudence and a drive to destroy his enemy before it can destroy him. The novel ends in an exciting mano-a-mano between the two partisan leaders. VERDICT Cornwell again makes writing flawless historical prose seem effortless.--David Keymer

In Richard Sharpe's 23rd adventure, he and his fellow British riflemen fight the French in Spain. In the spring of 1812, General Hill sends Major Sharpe on a reconnaissance mission to check out key bridges across Spain's wide River Tagus. One French army needs to cross it to regroup with Napoleon's army to the north, so stopping that connection is crucial to the British. Sharpe is ordered "not to poke the wasps' nest," and his subordinate Lieutenant Love notes that the mission "calls for subtlety and forbearance." But Sharpe sees the need for immediate action, so, like the daring commander he is, he disobeys orders. Blood flows aplenty as his riflemen and members of the Spanish resistance wreak havoc on the Crapauds (pardonnez-moi, that means Toads) with muskets, rifles, and cannons, while the French retaliate fiercely. On a broad scale, the story is about real events, but the layer of fictional characters brings it to life. First, Sharpe's fans will remember that he's the son of a prostitute and is a "natural killer, whether with musket, rifle, bayonet or sword." He's married to Teresa, a beautiful and ferocious resistance fighter nicknamed La Aguja, or The Needle. Lieutenant Love, nicknamed Cupid, speaks tentatively and looks like he'll be a liability but grows into his job. After a dramatic success, he cries out to Saint Barbara in heaven, "Oh Babs!…You glorious bitch!" Most colorful is the resistance leader El Héroe, who strains credulity with his windbaggery. "They fear me!…They stay in their forts and I rule the land!" Apparently no one has ever seen him fight, and Sharpe's men refer to him as El Cobarde, or The Coward. "I have the blood of kings and nobles," he brags to Sharpe, who retorts, "Then I'm glad I've got the blood of the gutter in me." Oh yes, and there's El Sacerdote, the priest who "gives his French prisoners the last rites before he cuts their throats." Gripping action that's not for the fainthearted. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.