“Sabina,” he said, speaking quickly, more tenderly than she had ever heard him speak. “You know that for those who love, the petals have fragrance. Such is the pleasant portion of the lesson of the roses. It is not so easy to see that sometimes the fragrance of love must come from the thorns. Our Master’s crown was not made from fragrant blossoms, my child.”

“They will imprison you!”

“You will all be free.”

“I want you to be free too!”

“I will be free, Sabina. For the Father’s children, the greatest freedom comes from giving one’s life for those you love. Is there any higher truth our Master has taught us? You know it is so.”

“Yes, Papa,” replied Sabina, tears of anguish, love, and admiration streaming freely down her face.

“Now go, my child, and may God be with you.”

“Oh, Papa…”

“I will see you again.”

“But when?”

“When he wills it to be so.”

Even as he said the words, suddenly the roar of approaching immediacy sounded again in his ears. The bubble was burst. It was time to drink of the cup.

The baron turned directly into the face of the approaching cars and began walking down the middle of the dirt road straight toward them.

The two autos screamed to a skidding circular stop in front of him, sending clouds of choking dust high into the air all about. Even before the engines had sputtered to a stop, all the doors flew open, and within seconds the road was filled with uniformed SS troopers, rifles stretching across the span behind the baron to the woods, their sights poised on the sixteen figures now standing immobilized and in terror.

From the driver’s side of the lead car, Emil Korsch burst out onto the dirt, pistol brandished in his hand, eyes afire in the diabolical satisfaction of at last outwitting these Jews and Christians he despised.

A silence, heavy with a multitude of fears and hidden emotions, hung a few seconds in the air, broken only as Gustav got slowly out of the other side of the car, carrying a rifle, but pointing it to the ground.

The only movement was the baron’s continued steady step forward toward those who would accuse and arrest him.

After an uncertain pause, Gustav slowly walked toward Sabina and motioned her to him. She backed away toward her mother.

The sound of Korsch’s voice prevented Gustav from pressing himself further.

“So, my friend, Baron von Dortmann,” he said, a cunning smile across his lips, “we meet again. It seems my reports have been correct, that you are indeed one of the resistance leaders.”

The baron said nothing, only stared straight into the eyes of the enemy, continuing to slowly approach him. Lord God, our Father, he silently prayed, blind his eyes, and bind his power to harm your people.

He turned to gaze behind him one last time toward his family and friends.