(This story could have been related to this writer, one of my ancestors, according to a rigorously verified family tree, but the cruelty of that character prevents me from dedicating it).

Vasco Porcallo de Figueroa stood under one of the trees bordering the Main Square of the Santa María del Puerto del Príncipe town and breathed in the fresh air of that spring morning.

He looked around and once again felt satisfied with the vanity of being the richest person in Cuba, and at that stage the toughest of the conquerors and colonizers of the Island.

He talked for a few minutes with Leonor Benítez and her husband, Benito Romero, about the morning breeze and wished them good luck.

He went to the Main Parish Church to talk with the priest Alonso de Tolosa, regarding the domination over the indigenous people, an endeavor in which Vasco Porcallo was extremely skilled and cruel.

On the previous night he dreamed of the number 1550 and that he was buried in that temple, and he gave importance to what he considered a premonition of the year of his death.

He told Tolosa, but he told him not to believe in superstitions, censored by Mother Church.

He dismissed the clergyman’s opinion and remained rooted in the revelation of the year of his death.

He arrived at the Pedro Quesada grocery store and drank lemonade at the table intended for illustrious clients.

He returned to his house, in front of the Main Square, and sitting in the living room he remembered several passages from his life, such as when he ordered the penis and testicles of some indigenous people to be cut off for eating dirt in an attempt suicide.

He also evoked his participation in the conquest of Mexico, and twice in that of Florida, his previous position as councilor and mayor of Puerto Príncipe, and when he ordered the hanging of the mayor of La Villa, and his consummate decision to assassinate the mayor of Sancti Spirits; among other adventures and misdeeds that he considered excellent qualities of his career.

He did not forget the entourage that accompanied him on his tours, which included armed men and a priest to officiate masses, and his role as founder of several towns on the Island.

After his evocations were over, he had lunch with his wife. He was very hungry and ordered roast beef with cassava, moistened with splashes of water and pork fat.

He ate hurriedly and a large meal got stuck in his throat. His efforts and the help of his wife were not worth it, he died of asphyxiation.

It was a shameful defeat for him, the richest man in Cuba, reckless, skilled warrior in the conquest of Mexico and Florida, and great subjugator of aborigines.

Shortly before, he had traveled to Sancti Spíritus, one of the towns in which he alternated his residence.

He died in 1550 and was veiled with his body present and with many honors in the Main Parish, where he was buried on a rainy day with thunder and lightning running wild.

He was right to believe in the prediction of the date in a dream.

Although they gave him divine blessing, it is assumed that Vasco Porcallo de Figueroa left Santa María del Puerto Príncipe to burn in hell.

(Taken from the unpublished book Of what was and could be in Santa María del Puerto del Príncipe, in which reality and fiction come together).

P.S. Born in Cáceres, in western Spain, Vasco Porcallo de Figueroa died in 1550, in Santa María del Puerto del Príncipe.

Translated by: Aileen Álvarez García