This was the fourth Alatriste novel I read. The novels all share a common structure and generally feature a portrait of Madrid and Spanish society, a major historic incident, court intrigues, and varying amounts of swordplay.

What distinguishes Perez-Reverte's work from other historical action novels is the vivid sense of place and time, and his love for the literature of the period. His works -- Cavalier included -- are always fun, yet always smart. ( )

Arturo Perez-Reverte brings us the fifth installment in the reliable Captain Alatriste series. As always the book features well-researched, factually grounded historical fiction set in the 17th century Spain, a generous dollop of poetry and theater, ladles of royal court intrigue, a full measure of fooling around between the sheets (almost entirely off-stage), and enough swashbuckling action to satisfy D'Artagnan. In addition to the Captain (Diego Alatriste y Tenorio), the familiar cast of characters returns: Alatriste's faithful sidekick Inigo Balboa y Aguirre, Inigo's heart-throb the angelic devil Angelica de Alquezar, the historic poet Francisco de Quevedo and, of course, Alatriste's arch nemesis, the whistling bad guy Gualterio Malatesta. The book's conceit is that we are reading manuscripts written by Inigo many years later in his dotage.

Alatriste and King Philp IV of Spain are both successfully bedding the actress Maria de Castro. The King takes offense and has Count Guadalmedina warn off the Captain. Readers of the series can guess how that goes over. Meanwhile, our narrator Inigo, now a nearly full-grown man, makes surprising progress in laying siege to Angelica's treasures. The two pursuits become linked by deadly court intrigue.

Readers new to the series will want to start with the first book, Captain Alatriste. Returning readers will not be surprised to learn that Perez-Reverte has delivered the goods again. Quibbles: The development of the story can drag at times and some of the threads extend through the entire series. I for one am well and truly ready for Alatriste to dispatch Malatesta to the depths of a fiery Hell. Perez-Reverte has played that particular string out beyond credulity and risks becoming a little absurd.

By the way, the publisher gets off a howler on the book jacket where it states that Inigo is a recently-returned veteran of the Hundred Years War. Oops, wrong war. The Hundred Years War ended in 1453. This book is set in 1626, which would make Inigo roughly 190 years old if he fought in the Hundred Years War. Alatriste and Inigo fought in the Thirty Years War [The Thirty Years War (New York Review Books Classics)] (1618-1648), which itself was just a part of the Eighty Years War (1568-1648). Those wacky Europeans and their incessant warfare! Confusing, yes, but catching stuff like that is why editors exist.

With The Cavalier in the Yellow Doublet, Perez-Reverte provides another enjoyable edition in this colorful historical series. ( )

Mexico had Zorro, England had Robin Hood and France is represented by D’Artagnan, but Spain and swash-bucklers don’t go together – unless you count Don Quixote, tilting at windmills, or the legendary El Cid.

Or so I thought until I met Captain Diego Alatriste, soldier, adventurer, loyalist and ladies man, a period Dirty Harry, James Bond and Don Juan rolled into one, the creation of the nimble pen of Arturo Perez-Reverte, best known in English for his intelligent bibliomystery, The Club Dumas.

The literary thriller is a relatively new genre in English, which tends to be fairly rigid: real authors generally leave action-adventure to mere novelists who, on the whole, avoid content that smacks too much of poetry, philosophy or political polemic.

Perez-Reverte surprised me by the gusto with which he depicted the streets of flamboyant, bellicose, belligerent and Church-driven Madrid, and the humanism he uses to describe the observations of young Inigo Balboa, ward and page to Captain Alatriste.

The stalwart soldier, returned from Flanders and Seville, is trysting with actress Maria de Castro, toast of the Madrid theatre world, much to the fury of her other lover, the King of Spain, and Alatriste’s common-law wife, Caridad.

Narrator Inigo is hopelessly in love with the scheming Angelica de Alquezar, a lovely maid of honour at the royal court and niece of one of Diego Alatriste’s most deadly enemies.

Pretty Angelica has proved poisonous in the past when she caused Inigo to be arrested by the Inquisition and almost burned at the stake yet despite this the hapless youth is putty in her hands and, together with his master, is soon delivered into danger again.

They are led into a trap whereby they come face to face with King Phillip IV in a deserted area, only to be attacked by Diego’s nemesis, assassin Gualterio Malatesta and his henchmen.

Out-numbered over two to one they are over-whelmed, yet the attackers flee after having killed the king: when the Royal guards find Diego beside the corpse of his regal rival in love, he is arrested for regicide.

Except the dead man was actually the king’s double: Phillip is alive and well but his enemies want him dead and replaced by a puppet whom they can control, and it’s up to the falsely accused Alatriste to prevent another murder.

Amidst the sword fights, romance, politics, conspiracy, skullduggery and intrigue, we have visits to the theatre, biographies of dramatists and writers, and enough quotations from plays and poems to fill a book.

For a soldier and a servant, Inigo is a bit of a savant and has memorized myriad lines: his English counterparts had the wealth of Shakespeare, Chaucer, Marlowe, Donne, Milton, Spencer and a hundred other gifted writers to choose from. Inigo was not so fortunate.

Seventeenth Century Spain was a deeply religious and spiritual nation, yet much of its literature was surprisingly trite and prosaic: Some of the beauty might be lost in translation but one can’t help suspecting there was not that much to lose in the first place.
Evil and evil doers? Leave them well alone.
Let us live as witnesses not accomplices,
So the old world to the new makes moan.
Umm, yes. Quite.

Poetry – even bad poetry – is not quite what one expects in a modern action adventure: Zorro certainly never quotes verse and even the Three Musketeers confined themselves to All for One and One for All! Huzzah! As for Robin Hood, he leaves all that sort of thing to Alan-a-Dale.

I enjoyed The Man in the Yellow Doublet: would I recommend it? Yes. Would I seek out other Alatriste stories? I didn’t enjoy it that much. ( )

EL CAPITAN ALATRISTE