Marcus Carinna hears a voice whisper, “Your turn,” as he rides past his family tomb. An unseen presence also startles the Germanic priestess Aurima, whom he is bringing to Rome. But hardheaded Romans scoff at ghosts, and Marcus can’t believe it’s a warning from his brother, who killed himself three years earlier.
37 AD: To great acclaim, 25-year-old Caligula Caesar has become Rome’s new master. No one is more pleased than Senator Titus Carinna, who helped him succeed to the throne. It’s a shame the Senator’s older son–Caligula’s closest friend–committed suicide after being charged with treason. But that still leaves Marcus, his second son.
Headstrong and hot-tempered, Marcus would rather prove his courage by leading legions against Rome’s enemies than take his brother’s place. Yet when his father orders him to befriend Caligula, he has no choice.
Caught in a web of deceit, conspiracy, and betrayal, he will uncover a secret that threatens his family, the woman he desires, even his life . . . and may bring chaos to the young Roman Empire.
“The first installment in a page-turning saga that revisits the heroes and villains of the grandest city of the ancient world . . . Comes alive with the long gone characters who were its lifeblood” -Kirkus Reviews
‘‘Combines current political concerns, the wide lens of the serious historical novel, and emotional maturity and realism with an utterly splendid grasp of what it must have been like to live in Rome under Caligula’s reign.” -Sarah Smith, Agatha Award winner and New York Times Notable author
Gods, Ghosts, and Germans in Caligula’s Rome
by Sherry Christie
Thank you, Jenny Q, for a chance to share some of the paranormal possibilities I explored while writing my first novel, ROMA AMOR, about Caligula’s Rome.
Right from the beginning, there’s tension between a main character who doesn’t believe in spirits and another who does. The scene is set in Chapter 1 when headstrong, hot-tempered Marcus Carinna, riding home from military service on the Danube frontier, hears a voice whisper, “Your turn, little brother,” as he passes his family tomb:
I whipped my head around so quickly that my helmet crest tugged at its lashings. No one was near enough to have spoken so softly to me.
Little brother . . . ?
By Mithras’s Dog! What made me imagine ghostly whispers from a dead man?