Roses by the Rhine River

September 30, 1939, on the day of the signing of the Munich Agreement. 5:17 in the morning. Isabella Hoffmann's fingers hovered over the keys of the Steinway piano. The melody of "Wild Roses" condensed into frost above the keys. Outside the window, the Rhine glowed with leaden gray light. The ice floes floating on the river crashed against the stone dock of the Rose Manor, making a crisp cracking sound. This was the last morning as a bride-to-be, yet her fingertips were filled with the chill of war. "Isabella!" A call came from downstairs from Elizabeth, Isabella's mother. Her voice, like a silver bell, carried the elegant tremolo unique to imperial ladies. "The grapevine specimens sent by Mr. Karl need your signature for confirmation." The young girl turned from behind the lace curtain. Her 22-year-old face was like a freshly blooming white rose in the morning light. She was wearing her father's gray woolen morning robe - which was remade from the uniform of the Ministry of Finance of the Weimar Republic. She stepped barefoot on the Persian carpet and signed her name on the parchment on the oak desk. Before the ink was dry, suddenly there was the roar of a truck outside the window. Seven military jeeps painted with iron crosses rolled over the gravel driveway, and the raised dust obscured the morning dew of the rose garden. Karl Schmidt's blue eyes twinkled in the dust. This 32-year-old winemaker was unloading boxes of Burgundy Pinot Noir cuttings from the roof of the jeep. His linen shirt was dampened by the morning mist, revealing the winding grapevine tattoo on his bronze neck - it was a commemoration of their first encounter at the Nuremberg Beer Festival in 1936. "Heil Hitler!" The SS captain's riding boots crushed the irises by the driveway. "According to the Munich Agreement, Mr. Schmidt must report to the Potsdam military base before noon." Isabella's crystal heels made a shrill sound on the marble floor. She saw Karl's knuckles suddenly turn white, and his right hand holding the grape shears hung in mid-air, as if he wanted to cut the entire Nazi emblem to pieces. This action reminded her of three months ago, backstage at the Berlin Philharmonic Hall, when Karl pinned the rose of her first night with the same force. "Today is our wedding." Isabella's voice was like an undercurrent under the ice of the Rhine. "My father was once the minister of finance, and my fiancé is the recipient of an imperial medal. You can't -" "Miss Hoffmann," the captain suddenly leaned close to her ear. His leather glove brushed past the pearl necklace on her neck. "Your father's suicide certificate is still in the Gestapo archives, and Mr. Schmidt's conscription order is stamped with the private seal of Reichsführer Himmler." As the first bell rang from the church in the morning mist. When Isabella counted to the seventh chime, she suddenly grabbed the captain's riding crop and pressed the silver gun handle against her own throat. "The wedding will be held at noon, and you will be the first witness." 11:30, Rose Manor banquet hall. The champagne tower reflected the Bible stories on the stained-glass windows. Each layer was decorated with "Pride of Germany" roses grafted by Karl himself. Isabella stood at the top of the spiral staircase. The chiffon skirt of her wedding dress hung down twenty-three steps. The Luger pistol sewn into the lining was pressed against the inside of her thigh, carrying the residual warmth from her father's suicide. "Isabella, your hands are shaking." Elizabeth, Isabella's mother, wiped the cold sweat on her daughter's palm with a lace handkerchief. "Think about your father. If he were still alive -" "He would shoot himself at the wedding." Isabella interrupted her. She replaced the pearl headdress with a wreath woven of wheat ears and grapevines. "Just like on the day of the Reichstag fire in 1933." The sound of SS boots came from downstairs. When Isabella counted to the seventh pair, she suddenly heard Karl's laughter pierce through the crowd. "Captain, do you know why Rhine Riesling needs to be aged for ten years?" Without waiting for an answer, he smashed the 1937 bottle against the stone wall. The amber liquid splashed on the Nazi flag. "Because our grapevines need time to turn the bitterness of war into eternal sweetness." When the captain's riding crop was raised in mid-air, Isabella pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed past Karl's ear, leaving a charred bullet hole on the Nazi eagle emblem. In an instant, the banquet hall was deadly silent. Only the bubbles of the champagne tower were still slowly rising. "The wedding continues." Isabella pointed the gun at her own temple. Her crystal heels crushed the broken glass. "Otherwise, the next bullet will pierce my heart and make your Führer lose the most loyal winemaker's widow." 12:00, St. Mark's Church. The stained-glass image of St. George slaying the dragon trembled amid the artillery fire. When the pastor read "in war and in peace", Karl suddenly tore open his shirt, revealing the grapevine tattoo on his left chest - inside which were hidden parts of a miniature radio. Isabella saw ripples in her husband's eyes like the Rhine. She heard him tap Morse code on her palm: "Eastern Front, 1941. Wait for me." At the moment when the wedding vows were drowned out by the sound of tank engines, Isabella slipped the wedding ring onto Karl's ring finger. This action lasted for a full ten years. When the SS truck took away the groom, she buried the last "Queen of Thorns" rose in the tire tracks. 23:59, air-raid shelter. The damp air was filled with the smell of gunpowder and rust. Isabella counted the distant explosions amid the labor pains. At the seventh loud explosion, her daughter Lia's cry tore through the darkness of the air-raid shelter. The midwife wrapped the baby in Karl's winemaking apron. Isabella saw the words "Nuremberg 1936" embroidered on the fabric were bleeding. "Mom, when will Dad come back?" Lia's little hand grabbed her finger. There were grapevine fragments embedded in the baby's fingernails. Isabella kissed her daughter's forehead and stuffed the blood-stained pearl necklace into the swaddling clothes. "When all the ice on the Rhine has melted and wild roses fill the entire manor." When the first ray of morning light reddened the east, the Berlin radio announced the German invasion of Poland. Isabella carved the seventh mark on the wall of the air-raid shelter. Next to it were the verses left by Karl last winter: "The barrel entwined with grapevines will bloom a flower more beautiful than roses." [Wine Tasting Notes] 1939 Riesling: The wine body presents a turbulent golden color. The bubbles are as restless as war rumors. At first taste, it is as sweet as honey, but in an instant it turns into the astringency of steel. There is a faint bloody smell of rose petals in the aftertaste - this is the taste of a torn honeymoon. When the wine liquid shatters on the tip of the tongue, you will hear the sound of crystal heels crushing glass and see the bloody wedding ring glittering in the moonlight. (End of Chapter 1) In the following chapters, we can focus on Isabella's survival wisdom in the war: how she transformed the cellar into an underground winery, made grape pressing tools from Nazi riding boots, and cultivated a "Queen of Thorns" rose variety that can resist the flames of war under the noses of the Gestapo. The wine tasting notes at the end of each chapter will show different levels as the plot develops. For example, the tasting notes in Chapter 3 will have lead bullet fragments in the soil, and in Chapter 7 there will be the metallic smell of concentration camp barbed wire. Please let me know if you need to adjust the rhythm or add details.