In 2004, the nice people at HarperCollins published a fragment of a Jack Aubrey-Stephen Maturin novel. It was the last in that illustrious series and, sadly, the last ever because of the death of the immortal Patrick O’Brian. (It is a wonder, in this age of endless Ludlum and Clancy offerings, that no one has taken up the pen on a 22nd Aubrey-Maturin novel, but let’s not give the aforesaid nice people at HarperCollins any ideas. And besides, who could you possibly get to write a new book in that distinctive style?) In England, the fragment was called THE FINAL UNFINISHED VOYAGE OF JACK AUBREY. But in America, it was decided that was too long of a title, so it was called 21.

By sheer coincidence, up until this point, there were also 21 titles in the Richard Sharpe series. Sharpe is a contemporary, more or less, of Lucky Jack Aubrey. But while Aubrey was plowing the waves of the world on board HMS Surprise and other doughty vessels, Sharpe was a rifleman, fighting the Peninsular Campaign under Wellington. (It may say something about the two books that Sharpe was at Trafalgar, while Aubrey was not.)

"There is a set-piece battle at the end of the book, and although it’s a small-scale affair, there’s no one better than Bernard Cornwell when it comes to writing about men in action."

SHARPE’S ASSASSIN is the 22nd Sharpe book, returning after an absence of 14 years. (Bernard Cornwell spent the intervening time on the Saxon Chronicles, and spent it phenomenally well.) It is set in the period directly after the Battle of Waterloo (and chronologically is the next-to-last installment in the series, which ends in 1820 with Sharpe in South America, of all places). In this novel, Sharpe must rescue an English spy, clean a gang of refugees out of his girlfriend’s mother’s house, and fight a dead-end conspiracy to assassinate Wellington and the incoming French monarch.

Sharpe excels at turning situations to his advantage, and the end of the war provides a double-edged challenge. There is still work to do to keep the right bastards from fouling up the peace, but it’s work that no one, least of all Sharpe, relishes. His thoughts are of home and hearth, and he’s savvy enough to know that’s true for both his men and the remnants of the French forces.

There is a set-piece battle at the end of the book, and although it’s a small-scale affair, there’s no one better than Bernard Cornwell when it comes to writing about men in action. If Sharpe has to be a little more careful --- and clever --- about going into conflict, it all works out for the good. There is an affecting scene in which Sharpe is getting ready for a dinner party. He is being fitted for a new uniform after years of wearing his threadbare one and insists on the oak leaf decoration that he earned for leading a Forlorn Hope --- a last-chance charge against overwhelming odds --- into battle. The book spends more than a fair bit of time looking backwards, but is no less excellent for that.

SHARPE’S ASSASSIN ends on a note of hope, but without the promise that Richard Sharpe will march again. If this truly is the final entry, we can only hope that it is not Cornwell’s last book and that he will carry on to continue his remarkable career.