© IE "Karpovsky Dmitry Evgenievich", 2015

© AST Publishing House LLC, 2015

“… It was in June, at the very beginning of summer, when a soft, invigorating warmth was spreading in the golden air. The heat had not yet set in, but long rains remained in May, and the old Peterhof Park near St. Petersburg still welcomed distinguished guests.

The weather was wonderful, sunny, white clouds circled over the horizon, going into the distance along the Gulf of Finland, and streams of golden sculptural fountains sparkled with thousands of wet diamonds. Fresh green leaves beckoned with coolness, and emerald crowns of pines and firs gave the same amazing northern air, which is considered so beneficial for breathing and even heals the lungs.

Our sovereign Alexander II walked at a leisurely pace along a clean-swept alley leading to the sea. His noble face was tired, and his shoulders slouched slightly, as if under the unbearable burden of worries about the endless Russian Empire. Many said that lately he has become more and more distant from the family. Who knows? Who dares to go to him with questions ...

Perhaps the sovereign is really looking for an outlet in politics, harnessing everything and making the country a leading European power. A small retinue of close officers and officials followed a little behind. They did not see me and did not know what I was doing here. It was only my business, and it was not just superfluous to initiate someone into it, but even dangerous ...

Hawthorn bushes reliably sheltered me from prying eyes. And even if one cannot hear from here what they are talking about in the king's retinue, this was not important at the moment. Human hunting dictates its own rules.

The main thing is that I was the first to notice it. A short, broad-shouldered man, in black robes, a dark silk scarf covered half of his face. He was betrayed by the glitter of the glass of a copper telescope through which he watched the sovereign's walk. At first I didn’t believe that this person was alone, usually hired killers work in pairs. Weird…

A minute later, a stranger hiding in the bushes carefully raised a long gun, almost hidden by the leaves. I no longer had time for further reflections, now everything depended only on the speed of my running.

He managed to take aim, I almost physically felt the front sight aligning with the proud head of the sovereign and the index finger of the man in black preparing to pull the trigger ...

I managed to run. My heavy hunting dagger, whistling barely audibly in the air, entered his back almost up to the hilt. I was taught to throw knives in Central Asia, it was a tough daily workout, but the results were worth it. Ten steps away from me, the stranger shuddered all over, arched, dropped the gun and tried to turn around. His eyes were full of rage and unspoken pain.

Like a shadow from a nearby tree, wordlessly and lightly, I rushed at the killer, holding his mouth. The shooter died in my arms, the blade of the dagger went under the shoulder blade, piercing the lung. Screams or wheezing could no longer be feared, red foam bubbled on the lips of the unknown. I gently and very quietly lowered his body to the ground. Everything.

Drawing the dagger with one jerk, I knelt down on one knee and wiped the blade with my handkerchief. Then he quickly looked around, peering out from behind the bushes to make sure no one noticed us. The last thing I needed now were witnesses, inquiries, clarifications, and indeed any hype.

The hunt went well, our autocrat with the generals and officials calmly continued his walk, thank God, neither he nor his retinue heard anything ...

Finally, I turned over the corpse of the man in black, searched it, took out the crumpled British pounds and a small photograph from the inside pocket - a group portrait of the participants in the parade of the Life Guards of the Imperial Cavalry Regiment, among them the young Tsar Alexander. The sovereign's head is outlined in red ink. There is nothing else, no papers, letters or documents. This is bad.

Involuntarily biting my lip in frustration, I understood perfectly well that no hired killer could get into Peterhof just like that. There were always enough guards here, guardsmen stood at all the entrances and exits, which means that someone very influential led the unknown person to the park, indicated the route for the emperor's walk and provided him with weapons. And from this it followed that very strong people were involved in the conspiracy ...

I took everything I saw fit and left in silence. The hunting dagger returned to its scabbard. A couple of drops of the mercenary's blood dried up on the wrist of his right hand, well, she didn't get on the bracelet, that would be a bad omen.

Once again, wiping a heavy silver chain with a dog's head, I covered it with the cuff of the sleeves of a simple infantry uniform and headed to the sea, where a boat and two sailors of our order were waiting for me. They also wore Chain Dogs bracelets on their hands ... "

(From the notebooks of Captain Nikolai Strogov)

… When I have some free time on long winter evenings, I put in front of me a yellowed pencil drawing with a portrait of my father and open the old notebooks of my archives. A gray memory brings me back to the distant times of my youth, I turn the pages like days and years. I managed to do a lot, see a lot, and some of the historical events that turned the modern world upside down might not have happened at all without my feasible participation ...

I have been leading a double or even triple life a long time ago. Alas, this is not my desire or habit, this is my duty, a given, associated with the banal instinct of self-preservation. I'll try to explain it if you're interested. So…

For everyone, I am a quiet Russian landowner, a father of three sons and a charming daughter, a loving husband, a traveler, a modest collector of ancient Asian coins. This is how my family, my friends and relatives know me, this is how I am for the world. And only a select few know my real face, my vocation, my duty and my service. I am the Chain Dog of the Empire ...

My initiation into the ranks of this secret order took place at the very beginning of autumn 18 .... I have no right to name more exact numbers and dates. In those days, our homeland Russia stood at the turn of the eras, its cities were rapidly gaining power, industry grew, the country carried out land reforms, developed the North and increased its influence in the world. And the victorious wars and the general flourishing of the self-consciousness of the Russian people under the wise rule of Alexander II, nicknamed the Tsar-Liberator, united and elevated the soul of the entire nation!

Tired Russian troops returned victoriously from the Balkan front, having thrown off more than a century Turkish yoke from fraternal Bulgaria with their bayonets. The country was jubilant, the people greeted their heroes with flowers, and the progressive community was waiting for new changes. Education became available to all segments of the population, our army was the most combat-ready in Europe, and the eastern khanates, protected by deserts, including the impregnable Khiva, bowed down to us, remembering the past campaigns of General Skobelev!

Today, even the most stubborn critics of the idea of ​​monarchism could not fail to recognize the merits of the Russian Tsar, and from Berlin to London, from Paris to Vienna, from Belgrade to Istanbul, the authority of the Russian Empire grew. We confidently pursued our policy, reckoned with us, the state knew how to insist on its own diplomatic and military force. Unfortunately, this is what caused at times unhealthy envy of certain individuals and even countries ...

My story begins long before these events. Actually, then I was not yet a participant in it. Then I was just a child, I enjoyed a cloudless childhood in my parents' estate near St. Petersburg and did not know anything about the Chain Dogs, but fate wanted to dispose of me differently ...

London, summer 18 ...

… I well remember July of that year. Britain had an unusually dry summer. London was dying from overheating, the silhouette of old Big Ben seemed to be made of river sand, the heat heated the London bridge so that it was impossible to touch its railing. Exhausted black crows sat on the walls of the Tower with their beak hanging, unable to find the strength even for a hoarse croak.

This is my first acquaintance with one of the most famous Russian writers. I have not read anything that came out of the pen of Andrei Belyanin before. And I think I lost a little. Although no, I'm lying. On the shelf in the bookcase I still have his book-gift "Checker" about the traditional Cossack edged weapons. I glanced at it without reading it, and it seemed that the photographs and reference material underneath were quite professional.
"Chain Dogs of the Empire"They attracted me with their story, declared in the annotation, about the young Russian Count Strogoff, who returned from England (where he studied), at the behest of his dying father. From a dying parent, a student learns that his whole family belongs to an ancient secret order that defends Russia. That's a twist, huh?)
Ivan the Terrible, the guardsmen (!), Secret societies, intrigues and conspiracies, the prevented and impending assassination attempt on Alexander II, will twirl the reader in a whirlpool, carrying him through 319 pages where the letters are the size of alphabet in school, and the text itself occupies only 60% of the sheet. I can hardly call it a serious romance. The work is so simple that you don't need to think at all while reading it. You might say that this is not bad ... but not to the same extent. I don’t know about you, but for me it’s a "minus". In general, stamps, stamps and stamps again. The adventures of Strogoff, his Cossack batman Matvey and the young Englishwoman Annie Challenger are filled with humor, shootings and fights. In general, agree, not a bad set for an adventurous story? Yes, I would also say so if not for one "but". All of the above is designed for the teenage level. Even the sentences are structured in such a way as to describe the events and atmosphere in a straightforward manner, leaving no room for imagination. The language of the novel is also exclusively adolescent - short, stingy and extremely primitive. Gourmets relying on delicious prose will remain hungry and angry.
Even the author's trivial twists are surprising. Well, really something more interesting did not come to mind. Signed up? Or just did not consider it necessary to jump over your head? And what kind of twists are these if you guess them in advance?
The finale of the novel (which in terms of volume I would call rather a story) ends at the most interesting place. Somehow he said too well. Rather, it breaks off halfway, declared by Belyanin himself. I even began to doubt that "Chain Dogs", as the first part of the dilogy, is just one novel divided by the author in order to ... earn money, into two books. Damn, this is very striking, despite the fact that I also have a second book.
Now let's move on to criticism. The author in various interviews declares that he loves and knows history well. I don’t know what he said there about "checkers", but not everything is smooth here. How kind I am. Do you think I swear in vain? Then I, as a historian (unlike a real writer), do not understand why during the time of Alexander II the Secret Chancellery, which was disbanded back in 1801, still operates. In fact, the Third Section of His Imperial Majesty's Own Chancellery should function actively here - i.e. the supreme body of the political police of the Russian Empire. Or simply gendarmes.
Yes, and military actions in the Caucasus could not be called the Chechen war in the 19th century (this is a greeting from the late 90s). What was it called? And that's what they called Caucasian. There are other bloopers, but I think that's enough.
Now let's praise, just a little. In general, despite the simplicity, sometimes even stupidity, the novel has one bold "plus". The author managed to create interesting characters. If you think that I am talking about the main character Mikhail Strogoff, you are wrong. He is just a cardboard extra, at the behest of the pen, turning one way or the other. But the Cossack Matvey, really funny, it is interesting to watch him, you sympathize with his brute strength, courage and readiness to meet the enemy with knives. Annie, too, turned out to be lively, cheerful, with character. The only pity is that even these two characters did not escape cliches and stereotypes.
In general, I recommend reading "Chain Dogs of the Empire" on the train, on the bus, when it is decent to go, there are no interesting neighbors and nothing curious outside the window, and ... on the pot, so that nothing interferes with the process.
Maybe, of course, I will change my attitude after reading the second book, but something tells me that it is unlikely, and a fifty-two-year-old writer cannot surprise me.

Despite the growing role of the Internet, books are still popular. Knigov.ru has combined the achievements of the IT industry and the usual process of reading books. Now it is much more convenient to get acquainted with the works of your favorite authors. We read online and without registration. It is easy to find a book by title, author or keyword. You can read from any electronic device - the weakest internet connection is enough.

Why is it convenient to read books online?

• You save money on buying printed books. Our online books are free.
• Our online books are easy to read: the font size and brightness of the display can be adjusted on a computer, tablet or e-book, you can make bookmarks.
• To read an online book, you do not need to download it. It is enough to open the work and start reading.
• Our online library has thousands of books - all readable from one device. You no longer need to carry heavy volumes in your bag or look for space for another bookshelf in the house.
• By favoring online books, you are helping to preserve the environment as traditional books take a lot of paper and resources to make.

(estimates: 1 , the average: 4,00 out of 5)

Name: Chain Dogs of the Empire

About the book "Chain Dogs of the Empire" Andrei Belyanin

Andrey Belyanin is one of the most talented and popular Russian science fiction authors. On his account there are more than thirty books that have become real bestsellers.

The formed circle of fans will definitely recognize the author's signature style in many ways, including stylistic features. By all the laws of the genre, Belyanin's work is characterized by action-packed novels about travels in time and space, about fantastic characters and non-existent things. However, the new creation, which the author recently presented to his readers, is strikingly different from everything that Belyanin's fans are used to seeing earlier.

"Chain Dogs of the Empire" is a new work of the genre, which can be defined as a classic adventure-adventure novel. Here the reader will not find any familiar fantasy. Only typical for this genre of pursuit and pursuit, exciting adventures, detective and espionage passions and, of course, love passions.

The plot of the book tells about the life of tsarist Russia, the time of the reign of Alexander II. The young Count Strogoff, a hereditary nobleman, returns to his homeland from England. It was not in vain that his dying father summoned him to Russia. The Count discovers that he belongs to a secret order that guards the empire. From this moment, events begin to develop, and duty calls the heroes to the distant and harsh Siberia. Baikal awaits them.

Of course, the book "Chain Dogs of the Empire" was not conceived as an independent work, it will be followed by a sequel, which may turn into a real cycle. In the meantime, the ending of the novel is rather blurred, but this is not a defect of the author. If we compare this book with the previous works of Belyanin, despite the fact that this is a fairly new genre for him, it is quite a success. Thanks to the stylistic features of the text, the special language of the narrative, the author's hand is felt. In addition, the unobtrusive, light Belianin humor has always betrayed and gives a special mood to his works. Without a doubt, this book should be read slowly, delving into the essence, understanding what the author wanted to say in a genre that was new to him and in a new context. The historical component of the narrative also makes the book quite informative and, to some extent, patriotic.

Read the new book by Andrey Belyanin "Chain Dogs of the Empire", form an opinion, enjoy the plot and wait for the continuation. Enjoy reading.

On our site about books, you can download the site for free without registration or read the online book by Andrey Belyanin "Chain Dogs of the Empire" in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, find out the biography of your favorite authors. For novice writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary skill.

Andrey Belyanin

Chain Dogs of the Empire

“… It was in June, at the very beginning of summer, when a soft, invigorating warmth was spreading in the golden air. The heat had not yet set in, but long rains remained in May, and the old Peterhof Park near St. Petersburg still welcomed distinguished guests.

The weather was wonderful, sunny, white clouds circled over the horizon, going into the distance along the Gulf of Finland, and streams of golden sculptural fountains sparkled with thousands of wet diamonds. Fresh green leaves beckoned with coolness, and emerald crowns of pines and firs gave the same amazing northern air, which is considered so beneficial for breathing and even heals the lungs.

Ours walked at a leisurely pace along a clean-swept alley leading to the sea. Tsar Alexander II. His noble face was tired, and his shoulders slouched slightly, as if under the unbearable burden of worries about the endless Russian Empire. Many said that lately he has become more and more distant from the family. Who knows? Who dares to go to him with questions ...

Perhaps the sovereign is really looking for an outlet in politics, harnessing everything and making the country a leading European power. A small retinue of close officers and officials followed a little behind. They did not see me and did not know what I was doing here. It was only my business, and it was not just superfluous to initiate someone into it, but even dangerous ...

Hawthorn bushes reliably sheltered me from prying eyes. And even if one cannot hear from here what they are talking about in the king's retinue, this was not important at the moment. Human hunting dictates its own rules.

The main thing is that I was the first to notice it. A short, broad-shouldered man, in black robes, a dark silk scarf covered half of his face. He was betrayed by the glitter of the glass of a copper telescope through which he watched the sovereign's walk. At first I didn’t believe that this person was alone, usually hired killers work in pairs. Weird…

A minute later, a stranger hiding in the bushes carefully raised a long gun, almost hidden by the leaves. I no longer had time for further reflections, now everything depended only on the speed of my running.

He managed to take aim, I almost physically felt the front sight aligning with the proud head of the sovereign and the index finger of the man in black preparing to pull the trigger ...

I managed to run. My heavy hunting dagger, whistling barely audibly in the air, entered his back almost up to the hilt. I was taught to throw knives in Central Asia, it was a tough daily workout, but the results were worth it. Ten steps away from me, the stranger shuddered all over, arched, dropped the gun and tried to turn around. His eyes were full of rage and unspoken pain.

Like a shadow from a nearby tree, wordlessly and lightly, I rushed at the killer, holding his mouth. The shooter died in my arms, the blade of the dagger went under the shoulder blade, piercing the lung. Screams or wheezing could no longer be feared, red foam bubbled on the lips of the unknown, I carefully and very quietly lowered his body to the ground. Everything.

Drawing the dagger with one jerk, I knelt down on one knee and wiped the blade with my handkerchief. Then he quickly looked around, peering out from behind the bushes to make sure no one noticed us. Least of all now I needed witnesses, inquiries, clarifications, and indeed any hype

The hunt went well, our autocrat with the generals and officials calmly continued his walk, thank God, neither he nor his retinue heard anything ...

Finally, I turned over the corpse of the man in black, searched it, took out the crumpled British pounds and a small photograph from the inside pocket - a group portrait of the participants in the parade of the Life Guards of the Imperial Cavalry Regiment, among them the young Tsar Alexander. The sovereign's head is outlined in red ink. There is nothing else, no papers, letters or documents. This is bad.

Involuntarily biting my lip in frustration, I understood perfectly well that no hired killer could get into Peterhof just like that. There were always enough guards at all the entrances and exits, which meant that someone very influential led the unknown person to the park, indicated the route for the emperor's walk and provided him with weapons. And from this it followed that very strong people were involved in the conspiracy ...

I took everything I saw fit and left in silence. The hunting dagger returned to its scabbard. A couple of drops of the mercenary's blood dried up on the wrist of the right hand, well, it didn't hit the bracelet yet, that would be a bad omen.

Once again, wiping a heavy silver chain with a dog's head, I covered it with the cuff of the sleeves of a simple infantry uniform and headed to the sea, where a boat and two sailors of our order were waiting for me. They also wore Chain Dogs bracelets on their hands ... "

(From notebooks

captain Nikolai Strogov)

… When I have some free time on long winter evenings, I put in front of me a yellowed pencil drawing with a portrait of my father and open the old notebooks of my archives. A gray memory brings me back to the distant times of my youth, I turn the pages like days and years. I managed to do a lot, see a lot, and some of the historical events that turned the modern world upside down might not have happened at all without my feasible participation ...

I have been leading a double or even triple life a long time ago. Alas, this is not my desire or habit, this is my duty, a given, associated with the banal instinct of self-preservation. I'll try to explain it if you're interested. So…

For everyone, I am a quiet Russian landowner, a father of three sons and a charming daughter, a loving husband, a traveler, and a modest collector of ancient Asian coins. This is how my family, my friends and relatives know me, this is how I am for the world. And only a select few know my real face, my vocation, my duty and my service. I am the Chain Dog of the Empire ...

My initiation into the ranks of this secret order took place at the very beginning of autumn 18 .... I have no right to name more exact numbers and dates. In those days, our homeland Russia stood at the turn of the eras, its cities were rapidly gaining power, industry grew, the country carried out land reforms, developed the North and increased its influence in the world. And the victorious wars and the general flourishing of the self-consciousness of the Russian people under the wise rule of Alexander II, nicknamed the Tsar-Liberator, united and elevated the soul of the entire nation!

Tired Russian troops returned victoriously from the Balkan front, having thrown off more than a century Turkish yoke from fraternal Bulgaria with their bayonets. The country was jubilant, the people greeted their heroes with flowers, and the progressive community was waiting for new changes. Education became available to all segments of the population, our army was the most combat-ready in Europe, and the eastern khanates, protected by deserts, including the impregnable Khiva, bowed down to us, remembering the past campaigns of General Skobelev!

Today, even the most stubborn critics of the idea of ​​monarchism could not fail to recognize the merits of the Russian Tsar, and from Berlin to London, from Paris to Vienna, from Belgrade to Istanbul, the authority of the Russian Empire grew. We confidently pursued our policy, reckoned with us, the state knew how to insist on its own diplomatic and military force. Unfortunately, this is what caused at times unhealthy envy of certain individuals and even countries ...

My story begins long before these events. Actually, then I was not yet a participant in it. Then I was just a child, I enjoyed a cloudless childhood in my parents' estate near St. Petersburg and did not know anything about the Chain Dogs, but fate wanted to dispose of me differently ...

London, summer 18 ...

… I well remember July of that year. Britain had an unusually dry summer. London was dying from overheating, the silhouette of old Big Ben seemed to be made of river sand, the heat heated the London bridge so that it was impossible to touch its railing. Exhausted black crows sat on the walls of the Tower with their beak hanging, unable to find the strength even for a hoarse croak.

The cabmen tried not to leave unnecessarily, because the horses fainted, unable to withstand the sunstroke. The workers were suffocating in the factories, the wealthy London public traveled to the seaside with their families.

So in the afternoon the capital of Great Britain plunged into an uneven and feverish sleep, slightly reviving only by five o'clock tea. The heat killed everything: desires, hard work, official duty; the human anthill of one of the greatest cities in the world subsided and hid from the heat. Everyone was waiting for the sunset ...

Even the ships mooring at the pier tried to arrive in the evening and unload at night. The port areas of the docks lived their own lives: merchants, police officers, sailors, beggars, visitors, foreigners and ordinary Englishmen packed into all the nearby taverns every evening. The sounds of bagpipes and violins, cheap singers, the splash of cheap black beer, the clink of dishes, and often short fights did not subside here almost until early morning.

Why Samuel invited Jeremiah and me here, to the Green Mermaid, a cheap and godforsaken Irish pub, I did not know then. However, this is where it all started, in fact, this is where our story will go ...

Probably, I should still tell you in order. First, at least let me introduce myself. Michael Strogoff. I mean, Mikhail, Misha. I am Russian. England became my second home and Oxford College my home. Long-term stay on English soil made me a real British.