The letter from the friar read as follows:

‘A few days after we set off and you went to Valledupar, we walked to the great Sierra de Omagua, which can be seen from many leagues around. On the eighth day, a cacique called Tavaido appeared, with his subjects, and bid us peace, and gave us five hundred indians to carry our supplies. He said to the general that if the expedition turned back, he would give each of the soldiers three hundred pesos, and each captain five hundred, and the General as much as everyone else put together. And that if he chose to remain there, they should build a fort and a town, and use it as a base to explore the region, and defend this cacique from the leader of Manoa, who wanted to make him his subject, and punish him. He explained that there were another three bellicose and brave nations in that land, who refused to submit to that King, and many others. The General, Pedro de Lomelín, and all the others disagreed, saying that they should attack the enemy before they learned that we were near, because as soon as the enemy from Manoa learned of our presence they would come and attack us first, and many grievances would follow. The General said, ‘let us die, I am as ready as everyone else’.

At this point, I will stop repeating the letter, because [45r] it is four sides long. Instead, to sum up, they went around assembling an army of all the enemies of the great Manoa, and then went looking for him in his own city. They said that it was a league across, of tightly packed round wooden huts, and they thought that there must have been over two hundred thousand of them. In the first and second battles against him, they captured and killed over fifty thousand Indians, and lost over twenty thousand of our men, including half of the Spaniards, which is even worse.

I asked him to tell me more things, and he replied, ‘I will, because these Caciques who are present before us are eye witnesses, and know that in this parish they have not had a more saintly priest than fray Luis, or one with such faith and such ability to preach it, or such charity and such a way of exercising it’. The old man stood up, and with great spiritual joy, said, ‘look, if you were a priest, have charity with these poor Indians in particular, defending them and ministering to them’. I was moved by this, also remembering what I had been told by a cleric in minor orders in Seville, when I wanted to marry his sister. He said I should not be a married man, but a cleric. And my wedding fell apart and never took place, because God’s will will always prevail. The old man continued, saying:

‘This holy man was a virgin, so much that he was not even known to admire women, or even permit that they entered her house, or talk to him except inside the church when he heard their confessions, or in times of need or sickness, or to give them alms, or heal them. He did not own anything, because he gave everything away. So much that these Indians and their leaders said, “let us give him a lot, because he distributes it so well”. They can tell you themselves, that most of them here would give them all their crops, and he would pass everything on to the needy. Tell him, don Andrés’, he said pointing at a Cacique, ‘how there were years when your harvest was too small, and you said, “Father, behold my garner, give as you see fit”, and the saint gave it almost all away, leaving under two fanegas of corn. And that when you saw it and thought you would go hungry, you went to him and said, “Father, how could you leave me with so little corn? Where can I find it to buy it back?”, and that with a big smile, he replied, [44r] “go, Cacique, and take what you need”. And they came calling to you, saying that your garner was full, and we all saw it.’

‘He disciplined these people with great love, and when he saw that some committed crimes and offences to God, and that they did not change their ways after his strong exhortations, and the punishments he inflicted, he would say to God, “Lord, take me back to die in Valencia (where he was from)”, and his words would reach the hearts of the reprobates, who would change their ways in order not to lose him or upset him.’

‘If I tried to list all his fasts, abstinences, disciplines, and penances, I would never finish. God knows I saw him spend entire nights on his knees, without sleeping. His whole life was virtuous. He never failed to say the Mass, and if anyone was sick he would give them water from the chalice, and just by laying his hands he cured infinite patients. He cured me, his humble servant, of two different diseases.’

‘Of the things that God had revealed to him would happen, it is enough to mention the story of the unfortunate General don García de Serpa, who has spent in his expeditions to find el Dorado or Manoa two hundred ducats of his fortune, and of others, and that few will return from his third expedition. Let us hope to God that he is amongst them. And so every day I pray for him to God, since this is the third expedition he has gone on. Fray Luis also told me that Cartagena would be taken by our enemies, but soon relieved, and other things that have happened just as he prophesised. The great holiness of this man is an example to all peoples.’

When I had heard all these things, I promised that I would ask [44v] the holy man, fray Juan de Ladrada, who later became bishop of Cartagena, to compose a treatise about this saint. I later said this to him, and he promised. Glory be to god that there is now a book about his holy life and miracles, written by father Justiniano, and that he has been beatified and awaiting canonisation. And just to finish this chapter with the prophecies of the saint, I will mentioned what happened after this, which I learned later in letters from the Dominican chaplain who went with don García de Serpa on his expedition, and eventually in greater detail from Pedro de Lomelín, who was a truthful man.

Chapter XVIII: A few things about the great saint fray Luis Beltrán.

That night, when I reached Cipacua, an old man arrived who had been the steward of those towns, which belonged to the Crown, for many years. We had a long conversation, in which he said: ‘even though this town and another were taken from me, and half of my salary, I refuse to leave this land, because that great man fray Luis Beltrán once walked upon it. He was a priest and doctrinero of all these [43r] towns, and I saw him preach and perform wonderful miracles which showed his great sanctity, and that he was a man of God’. I was intrigued and wanted to hear more, because Captain Francisco Sánchez had already told me a few of the stories, and so I asked him to tell me everything he knew. He told me the following:

‘One Sunday, before saying Mass, that holy man seemed absorbed in his thoughts, and sad. I went up to him, since he was very affable, and asked, “Father, why are you sad?”. He replied, “Son, I am saddened by the great difficulties in which that good Christian, Governor Martín de las Alas of Cartagena, finds himself, as he is about to die. Let us gather the people quickly, because I don’t want to leave without saying Mass”. I hurried the Caciques, and he said Mass, and without even stopping for a bite to eat, we set off on horseback so quickly, judging by the great distance we covered, that not even the wind could match our speed. We found Captain Francisco Sánchez near Piedra Grande, and he was surprised to see us. Fray Luis asked him where he was going, and said, “let us hurry, before the Governor expires, we are already being called”. A quarter of a league further on, we came across a Mulato travelling in the opposite direction. When he saw us, he said, “come quickly, father, my lord is about to die”. As soon as we arrived, he heard the governor’s confession, although he had already confessed. And after he administered the holy sacraments, the saint remained by his side and helped prepare for death. Later, fray Luis came away, knelt, and prayed from a book, which I think was of the Psalms and litanies. This done, he took a crucifix to the sick man, and said, “look, brother, here is an image of Jesus. Call his name, and go with him in peace.” The governor opened his eyes, said, “Jesus” (all of us there heard it), leant back, and died. Fray Luis said a prayer for his soul, and then, “blessed man, may God make me like you”, although we all recognised these were just words of humility.’

Eventually, I came across the steward [of that plantation], who had seen my clothes. He was an hidalgo also called Ceballos, and as a result loved me dearly. I had found him that position, and jobs in three towns belonging to García de Serpa.

They heard in Cartagena that I was lost, and Ortiz even said that I had probably drowned. The General [Governor Cáceres] later sent Mateo Rodríguez to the governor of Santa Marta, don Lope de Orozco, passing the problem on. Although by this point his rebellion had quietened down, Orozco was not pleased.

There in Cipacua I found a lot of money, from corn and casava which the steward had sold, and I paid a merchant who had lent him five thousand pesos in gold. I travelled around all those towns, and there I heard various caciques and the steward of other towns talk of the wonders and miracles of fray Luis Beltrán. I wrote so many stories down that I could even write a book. Because they might serve as lessons to the reader, and spread the news about this great saint, I want to include some of them.

We parted company, and I headed to Valledupar, which is a city of Spaniards in the jurisdiction of my friend Governor Cáceres. I was delighted to see him there, because he reminded me of our holy pilgrimage to Jerusalem. He gave me many gifts. [41v] Then I went to Tamalameque, and up the Great River to Mompox, and finally to Tenerife. In this city, Mateo Rodríguez, an encomendero who lived there and was Teniente de Gobernador and Captain General of the punishment of white people, had rebelled, and killed a number of Spaniards, blacks, and Indians. His son was his sheriff. I know that as they saw me come, they must have said, ‘here comes that deluded one, let’s kill him, or throw him in a cistern’. As soon as I arrived, the son said, ‘I think, Captain Pedro Ordóñez de Ceballos, that we pay for everything in this life. And so you and your fellows must know that is convenient to the service of God and the King that we are punished’. I said, ‘this is a good start’. The General added, ‘it will not be so, he will be like Uriah’. I remained silent, and began to interrogate witnesses. After three or four days there I heard so many terrible threats that I told Ortíz to go to a nearby mountain and make me a raft of strong wood, since there were many thick and light logs there. I remained in the city, to allay suspicion, and slipped away in the night with two chests full of my clothes, which I tied together with reeds. We had some paddles, with which we rowed down the river — Marcos Ortiz at the bow, I at the stern. We had travelled about twelve leagues by sunrise. Further down, we hit a great whirlpool which we could not avoid, and we were submerged so quickly that it was as if our raft turned into a bolt of lightning. Ortiz jumped off and swam to the bank, before running to Cartagena. But I did not know how to swim, and so held on to a one of the ropes we used to tie the raft together, and closed my eyes and mouth.

[42r]

The raft finally came free from the whirlpool, and pulled me out with it. I climbed back onto it, and spent almost half a day drifting in it wherever the furious currents took me, until it hit a rock and ran aground. I leapt to land, so exhausted by the bumps and bruises from the raft and the water, and by my fear, that I could barely walk. The raft had swayed violently, and all I could do was hold on with my arms, as my body mangled by the rough water. All I now wanted was to take my wet clothes off.

All that had survived was what I was wearing, which was a suit of cloth of Anjou with long slits, and a green tunic underneath, and a doublet of the same material, and some stockings of green silk. I took it all off to dry it, and was left like Job, as they say, straight out of his mother’s womb. I laid out my things on some bushes. To avoid the gnats, since there were so many around there, I went to a nearby corn field, and found some weeds to repel them. I ate some cobs of that corn, and then used the husks to spray a great quantity of water. I dug a hole in the sand where I could sleep, avoiding the mosquitoes, an achievement, given how exhausted I was. The heat of the sun woke me the next day, and it must have been around noon. I ate some more of the corn, and went to find my clothes, but they were gone. I fell into a deep depression, pondering what we are, and worrying that I might be on the wrong side of the river, on the side of the province of Santa Marta, where I might be eaten by Caribs. I felt ashamed, and fled this place through the corn field, remembering all my sins.

Chapter XVII: On the expedition organised to el Dorado, and how I stayed behind by the mercy of God.

When His Majesty of Heaven decides something, since everything is in His hand and divine will, there is no human will or desire that can prevail against the course set by the soft and divine providence, as will be shown.

After returning from the expedition of the runaways which I mentioned, I arrived in Turbaco, where I met don García de Serpa, a most honourable gentleman, who had been granted an encomienda of all indigenous towns around Cartagena under the control of the Crown as a reward for his services and those of his father. Serpa was putting together an expedition to find el Dorado, and the great city of Manoa, which — it is said — is the greatest city of all the Indies. He had recruited some two hundred in Spain, plus another hundred from Cartagena and the New Kingdom of Granada. This gentleman asked me to join him, as Captain of the adventurers, because he knew [41r] that many more men would join us. I accepted, and so began to command people and organise the expedition. He put me in charge of his properties and tributes. I bought what we needed of supplies for war and food, shoes, and cotton. It was necessary to borrow a great deal of money, secured by the estate and by me, and it was lent gladly. But just as we were about to set off, our creditors complained and I was forced to stay behind. I asked Pedro Lomelín to take my place, and he was appointed Captain of the adventurers.

The company set off to discover el Dorado and conquer the great city of Manoa: a total of three hundred soldiers, and sixty adventurers. They set off from Cartagena, and I went with them as far as Santa Maeta and Salamanca, which is also known as la Ramada, where they extract two million pearls. There, I saw pearls of so many different sorts that I was amazed, because you could measure them by the half fanega. In these two cities, I bought rope and twine, for sheaths for our weapons, and a lot of cord, and some arquebuses. And in Santa Marta, I bought great quantities of rations, which cost over twenty-five thousand pesos, not to mention the over fifty thousand that I had spent in Cartagena. From there, we set off towards Lake Maracaibo, which is a sea, because we travelled through it for over two hundred and eighty leagues. As we disembarked, the natives attacked us, in the most crude skirmish in which nine of our men were killed, including one Captain and two Alferezes. Despite this, we landed, and killed over a thousand Indians.

The General and Maestre de Campo of the runaways decided that they would attack as soon as their soldiers had tended to their wounds, as the moon was out, and they had the advantage of lightness and knowledge of the land, both to retreat and to attack. Polonia tried to dissuade them. She later said she had done it for me, just as when she had shouted about Martín, which was to warn me. Her words were convincing, especially when her fellows saw how Martín was agony from the arrow wound to his eye, [40r] which he had lost, and how Iolofo could barely move his leg. She enticed them with promises that we would free them both, and others, and even all of their men, and that she wanted to discuss this with us before dawn. And so, at around midnight, she blew a horn in a sign of peace, and said to our guards: ‘tell the Captain that Polonia comes in peace’. Pedro de Lomelín went out to get her, and brought her to me.

She was carrying no weapons, and told me everything that was happening in her camp, that Marín had died, and that I should grant freedom to all who followed her, and lands near Cartagena, where they could labour, and to her everything that I had promised. I ratified this amicably and under oath. She returned to her camp, and there they had great arguments. Those who did not want to follow her stayed, and the next day some forty-eight of them arrived with Polonia and Iolofo. They came unarmed, and stayed among us. Later that day, and the next, we captured nineteen, and in other twenty-two days another forty-seven. Polonia asked for some men, and set off one day, and brought another nine women. Another day she said she wanted to go out on her own, and brought twelve women and twenty-two young men. When Iolofo recovered, he too set out with five of his men, and brought his wife, three children, another fifteen women, and eight children of the men who had surrendered willingly. And so the war against the runaway slaves came to an end. The land was pacified, and the roads were secured, as were the other slaves of Cartagena, Zaragoza, los Remedios, and all the mines.

We left that place and headed to the great Magdalena River, where we embarked on canoes and travelled safely to Cartagena. The joy of the people there was a sight to behold, as were the fairs and celebrations, which included bullfighting and juegos de cañas. We handed out the slaves, giving forty to the Crown, six each to Polonia, Bartolomé Pérez, Pedro de Lomelín and myself, [40v] and the rest among our men according to their contribution. Ten were sold, and the money given to the heirs of the Indians who had lost their lives, except for five ducats from each of them. We took the same contribution from every other person involved, and spent the total on masses for the dead, good works, and processions, of which there were many — because we had captured and sold many slaves indeed.

My lieutenant ran up the hill, and his retreat was as valuable as victory. The black man was bleeding to death, and not worth my attention. I took the woman aside, to where we had first spoken, where she said: ‘you did not leave me to kill my General. Now you must defeat me’. She struck me with furious blows, and although I could have wounded her, I slowly retreated, thinking it would not be fair, that it would not end the war. I thought that if I defeated her with kindness, because she and her man were the leaders, I would be more successful. And so I said, ‘look, what I told you is true, I swear on my life that I will give you your freedom and an income’. She came towards me, wanting to hurt me, and I struck her with a blow that could have killed her. I added, ‘Cordobesa, I could have killed you just now’. She responded with a manly fury, and grabbed my arm with both hands, and showed me the dagger she was holding. ‘Cordobés’, she said, ‘now you’re mine’. I took out a small pistol I was carrying, and said, ‘I will be, if you do what I say. Just look at how many times I have spared your life. Recognise the mercy of God, since you are a Christian’. She asked me whether I was wounded, and I told her that I was (although it was nothing), because she had hit me with her second dart in the thigh, and the black man had struck me in the head, even if it was but a scratch. She said, ‘go and withdraw your people, in order, and I will calm mine tonight.’ She handed me her dagger, saying ‘help your men’. I took my sword, and turned to climb the hill, and barely managed it from my tiredness. At the summit, I sat down in the greatest melancholy, from witnessing such strife.

[39r]

When lieutenant Bartolomé Pérez came up, our men had begun to retreat, because the rebels had fought them with great valour, and we had run out of gunpowder. They had been forced to fight the enemy with the strength of their arms, and I was told that if it had not been for Pedro de Lomelín and lieutenant Pérez, they would all have been killed. We paid a heavy price that day. On their side, fifty black women and thirty black men had been killed. On ours, apart from the three men I mentioned, another two black men and three Indians had lost their lives. Almost everyone had been wounded. Pedro de Lomelín and Polonia were not, spared as they were by their great fortune, but all the others had – some with up to nine wounds. It was very late now, and I blew a horn I wore around my neck with the signal to withdraw. And so our men retreated, with composure, as our enemies made faces at the Spaniards, and threw darts and stones from some sticks they make — smaller than clubs but as strong as iron, with a bow at the end about the size of the palm of your hand, slung with strips of rope, with a thick part where they put a stone and shoot it out with such fury that it is as if they shot it out of a rifle. They did the greatest damage with these weapons.

The black General, Martín, and another demon, one Francisco Iolofo, who had been captured in Monomotapa and taken to Arabia Felix and Turkey as an idolatrous gentile, where he had become a Moor. Thence, captured on a Turkish shop near Cape Gata, which the Turks call the Cape of Silver. He was taken to Seville, where he became a Christian, and then to the Indies. But as an unreliable runaway, he became a Cimarrón, and performed the role of Maestre de Campo and had fought the most that day. Because they saw our people retreat, and heard the sound of the horn, they let our men retreat in order and hid half-way up the hill. [39v] They then crept to where I was, and I heard a great voice say, ‘Martín, down here’. I turned my head, and saw a dart flying towards me, that would have killed me if I had not moved out of the way. Then two stones were thrown, which hit my buckler, one after the other. I leapt twice with great lightness (I was very nimble back then), and found myself so close to that Martín that I was able to stab him in the stomach. It made a large wound, but not a fatal one, although he now had to use one of his hands to stop his innards spilling out. Just then, Ortíz and two Indians arrived, and one shot an arrow into Martín’s eye. The other demon, Iolofo, knocked the Indian out with a stone, and then did the same to the other Indian with his spear. I was able to wound his leg, and he turned like a wounded bull and hit me with his spear, avoiding the buckler, and stabbing my shoulder. He wounded me, and I fainted. Ortíz grabbed his arm, and at the same time stabbed the General once more, cutting off his hand and releasing the innards it was holding in. Now everyone arrived, from both sides, and took their wounded: we took ours and they took theirs. We retreated to our camps, and there I tended to my wound, and those of another twenty soldiers. The others did the same, tending to each other’s wounds.

Chapter XVI: On the other things that happened on this expedition.

Just as the black woman attacked me with her club, a black man came running down the hill, fleeing from the lieutenant, who wanted to kill him, having killed the other two. And after him came Martín, the one who had been a miner, and who was now the captain of a squadron of blacks, the General of the runaways. I said to the black woman: ‘let me, for your life, fight that man who the lieutenant called Martinillo, and you’ll see whether I am from your homeland’, adding, ‘I respect you, and I will make sure that you are given your freedom, and an pension from the King.’ She said, ‘Go, then, and kill him, make me a widow, and I will be able to serve you’. I replied, ‘so that I know we have an understanding, pull that dart out of my buckler.’ She pulled with such fury and strength that I thought she might rip my arms off.

I fought the black man for a while, until we heard shouting and screaming. The blacks had run into our Spaniards and Indians as they retreated, and the Indians made that noise as is their custom. Martín, the black man, left me, and ran uphill like a horse, to defend his men. He left his lieutenant, who attacked me. As we fought, I retreated some fifteen or twenty paces, to see whether I could [38v] cut his legs off. Entrusting myself to the Souls of Purgatory and the most holy Cross, I leapt at him and hit his knee with such a blow that I shattered it to pieces. He collapsed on the ground, and tried to defend himself with his club. Polonia, who was watching, came towards me, and my lieutenant came to my defence. I stopped him, saying, ‘go help our men, I can deal with these two’.

In that estate, which is on the road to Barranca, was a one-eyed steward. And everything that belonged to him had to be one-eyed as well. And so even horses, [36v] dogs, cats, birds, and other living things in his house, all had one eye, as did an Indian woman who served him. She welcomed us, inviting us into the house herself, because her master was not there. We asked her for food, and she said that all she had was a pot of amaranth, which she gave us. And even though it was cold, and had too little salt and too many peppers, it tasted so good to us that Captain Bolaños kept asking, ‘has there ever been anything more delicious?’. We ate the amaranth, along with some buns of maize, which is the wheat that in Spain is known as wheat of the Indies. And even though these were mouldy and bitter, our hunger made them as delicious as the amaranth. One of us went to the pot for more, and looking inside, he brought it over to us, laughing and saying ‘behold the delicious amaranth of Captain Bolaños’. He took a spoonful out, and we saw that more than half of it was silt, because the water around there was taken from puddles. And so now everyone around there, and even around the New Kingdom of Granada, has the saying, ‘how delicious, is this the amaranth of Captain Bolaños?’, meaning that there is no such thing as stale bread to the starving.

I left this place with my men, and on the road to Barranca we ran into two sons of Mateo Rodriguez, judge of Barranca, who were taking a prisoner to Cartagena. We asked what his crime was, and we learned that he was a deserter from the fleet. I asked them to hand the prisoner over to me, and that they join me in helping my lieutenant, because we had heard that he was surrounded by the runaway slaves. The elder son replied: ‘If Your Mercy is a Captain, my father is a judge, and so we will not go.’ I took the prisoner anyway, and left him with my people, whom I ordered to march quietly up a certain hill until they reached the mountain range. I left with Pedro de Lomelín and another two men for Barranca, where I found fifteen Spaniards. [37r] I was empowered to take as many as I wanted, but I asked politely whether they would join me in securing the roads. They agreed, and so we rushed off and met the main party of my men at the top of the hill. From there we saw my second-in-command, Bartolomé Pérez, on another range of mountains, and a great multitude of blacks. We headed towards them, but because it was so far we did not reach them until the next day.

At dawn, we heard the sound of conch shells, which was the sign that they were ready for battle. We climbed the final league and a half of the slope, and on the summit I ordered all the Indians with Captain Bolaños to prepare an ambush, and then my man Ortiz with the slaves and the other Spaniards to prepare another. Nine men were armed with rifles, and everyone else with swords and bucklers. I went ahead alone but for with Pedro Lomelín, and we arrived just in time, for our slaves were retreating, in the face of two male runaways and some hundred and fifty females, who fought even more fiercely than the men. They were armed with darts and clubs, and had already killed three of our men. We had only managed to kill one of their women. As I arrived, confronted the men who were retreating, saying ‘Santiago! Men, why do you flee? Look, they are but women!’. And so we repelled their attack, even though managed to kill two of my slaves.

As soon as I reached my lieutenant, I said, ‘let us retreat from these devils, and if they want pardons and freedom I will pardon them all’. One of the runaways fought with such fury and courage that I stopped to watch him. The lieutenant shouted: ‘Pedro Martinillo, here I am’. He turned around, saying ‘Portuguese demon, the mines were not enough, even here you pursue me!’, and he leapt towards the Spaniards, and we retreated uphill. One of the black woman shouted, ‘follow them up, and I’ll deal with this brave one’, and she stayed there fighting with the Portuguese, lieutenant to lieutenant. [37v] We continued to fight as best we could, luring them towards where our men were waiting in ambush. Suddenly, they all appeared, and the Indians shot their arrows, and the Spaniards and slaves fired their arquebuses and darts. I thought this would end the battle quickly, but because the runaways were fighting for their lives and freedom, they fought back with their spears, darts, and clubs so fiercely that they even leapt in front of our arquebusiers, took their guns out of their hands, and beat them with them. The Indians withdrew into the bushes, and eight of them died. More than were wounded. The slaves I had brought and my lieutenant came together on some rocks, and there they tried to defend themselves. Three more slaves died. Us Spaniards were faring best, and we all charged towards where the Indians were fighting, as I pitied them the most. Even though I lost a man on the way, and nine more were wounded, I was glad to have joined them and come to their defence.

Around this time, Polonia, the black woman fighting my lieutenant, left him, because three brave slave of ours came to relieve him. She started shouting: ‘Where is the treacherous Cordobés Captain, who deceives us with ambushes? I too was born in Córdoba’. I walked towards her with my sword and buckler, thinking that if this demon who had resisted Bartolomé Pérez managed to embolden and inspire her people we would be in trouble, and that it was best to distract her. And so I said, ‘I am the Cordobés, from the best land in the world. Try to kill me, and if you do you manage it you can boast that a woman killed the man who esteemed her the most: even if you were not as gentle and beautiful as you are (which, for a black woman, she certainly was), the fact that you are from Córdoba like I am would be enough. For even though you have denounced your countrymen as traitors, you well know that we are [38r] the cream of the world.’ Without saying another word, she threw a dart at me, of the three that she carried. It hit my buckler with an infernal fury. She threw another, but I avoided it. She threw the third, but missed again. Then she took an enormous club in her hands, and said, ‘see if you avoid this one’. The rest of what I went through with this monstrous woman I will save for the next chapter.