The Colonel Ordered the Slave to Marry His Dwarf Daughters; the Slave Inherited the Entire Farm…
In the year 1547, as the sun began to hide behind the sugarcane fields stretching as far as the eye could see, the Santa Cruz do Vale estate was known throughout the Captaincy as the realm of Colonel Ambrósio Maciel. He was a man with broad shoulders and a voice that echoed through the halls like distant thunder, who had built his empire with an iron hand. The big house stood imposing, but there was something disturbing about it: the second-floor windows were always closed, their heavy curtains motionless.
The workers whispered about the colonel’s three daughters: Beatriz, Catarina, and Madalena, whom no one had seen in years. They said they were small, fragile, different. The colonel kept them hidden, away from dances, masses, and the curious neighboring landowners. Father Inácio, the only man besides the colonel permitted to enter those chambers, always came down pale and tight-lipped, never revealing what he saw.
One warm afternoon in January, everything began to change. A caravan arrived bringing the “merchandise” that the colonel had ordered. Among the men who descended from the cart, one caught his attention: tall, with a straight gaze and a dignity that made one uneasy. His hands were bound, but his posture did not bend.
“That one there caused trouble on the way, sir,” said the foreman, Severino. “He doesn’t take orders. They say he could read in his lands.”
The colonel observed the man. “What is your name?”
The man raised his face, his eyes meeting the colonel’s without fear. “They call me Tomé, sir.”
The voice was firm, lacking the expected submission. The colonel felt curious. “You will work in the big house,” he ordered.
That night, as Tomé was taken to the quarters, the colonel went up to the second floor. His daughters, aged 17, 19, and 21, had never received a suitor. He was aging, and an obsession consumed him: what would become of his estate and his daughters when he died? He looked out the window and saw Tomé, observing everything, memorizing every detail. A dangerous thought began to form in his mind.
In the following days, Tomé was assigned tasks that required reasoning: organizing documents, counting sacks of sugar. He performed his duties with silent precision, always observing. He remembered his life before the chains; his knowledge was something no one could take from him.
Two weeks later, the colonel called him to the library. “Can you read?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” “Can you calculate?” “Yes, sir.”
The colonel walked to the window. “I have three daughters,” he said bluntly. “They were educated, but they are… different. Small in stature. Society here is cruel. No man from this region would marry them.” He leaned over the table. “I need to secure their future. I need someone loyal who can manage this estate.”
Tomé’s heart raced.
“You will marry them,” said the colonel. The words resonated like a decree. “With all three. A private ceremony. You will become part of this family, and in time, you will inherit everything.”
The silence was thick. “Sir,” Tomé began, “what you propose goes against all laws…” “I am the law in these lands!” thundered the colonel. “And this is your only chance to stop being property and become an owner.”
Tomé understood. It was a trap, a test, and an opportunity. “Do the girls know?” he asked. “They will know tonight. And they will accept, because they know there is no other option.”
That afternoon, Tomé was taken to the second floor. The colonel knocked on the first door. Beatriz, the youngest, appeared with frightened eyes. The second door revealed Catarina, with a distrustful gaze. The third door opened before he could knock. Madalena, the eldest, faced him directly. “Can you read?” she asked. “Yes,” Tomé replied. “Then perhaps it won’t be so bad,” she said, with a hint of challenge.
That night, Father Inácio was called. Pale and trembling, he tried to argue, but the colonel silenced him with a look. The ceremony took place in the private chapel, in secret. The three sisters, dressed in simple white, stood side by side. Tomé repeated the vows three times. When it was all over, the colonel signed the documents that made Tomé the legal heir.
As they left, Madalena discreetly held Tomé’s arm. “We are not weak,” she whispered. “And you are not the only one who knows how to wait.” Tomé then understood that the power struggle was much more complex than he had imagined.
The following months were marked by a strange calm. Tomé lived in a separate wing, an ambiguous position between family and servant. The sisters began to slowly emerge from their quarters. Beatriz, the youngest, was shy and gentle. Catarina was observant and asked questions about management. Madalena, the most intriguing, asked Tomé to teach her to read the accounting books.
“Why do you want to know this?” Tomé asked one afternoon. “Because one day my father will die,” she replied frankly. “And I want to know exactly what he is leaving behind.”
Meanwhile, the colonel visibly aged. His hands trembled, and his cough echoed throughout the house. One rainy afternoon, Tomé found the box where the colonel kept the wedding papers. Inside, he found the will. It left all his possessions to Tomé, on the condition that he take care of his daughters. If he failed or tried to sell the estate, everything would revert to the Church. It was not freedom; it was a gilded prison.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Madalena’s voice startled him. She was at the door. “I already knew. My father showed me. He wanted me to know that our safety depended on you.” “And do you agree with this?” Tomé asked, frustrated. “Do you think we have a choice?” she replied, tears in her eyes for the first time. “We are prisoners of each other, Tomé. The difference is that we have already accepted it. You are still fighting against it.”
That night, the colonel had a coughing fit so violent that it stained his handkerchief with blood. Father Inácio was called urgently. Madalena passed by Tomé and whispered, “Get ready. Everything is going to change very soon.”
Colonel Ambrósio Maciel died on a moonless night in September. The wake lasted three days. The neighboring landowners came, more out of curiosity than respect. They wanted to see the “aberrant daughters” and the slave heir.
Domingos Ferreira, owner of the neighboring estate, a burly man with calculating eyes, pulled Tomé aside. “You understand the delicate situation you are in, don’t you?” he said. “A man of your condition… this will not be accepted. Sell me half the estate. With the money, you can go far away. The girls will remain under my protection.”
Before Tomé could respond, a cold voice sounded behind him. “My family is not for sale, Mr. Ferreira.” It was Madalena. “I understand enough to know when someone is trying to steal what is ours.” Domingos Ferreira turned red with anger. “You will regret this!” he growled. “This captaincy does not accept aberrations, neither in size nor condition!” And he left, stomping away.
The real battle began. The documents were contested, and Father Inácio was pressured, but the priest stood firm, declaring that the colonel was of sound mind.
Meanwhile, a silent transformation was occurring at the estate. Madalena took control of the finances with surprising skill. Catarina proved to be competent in managing the workers, earning respect with intelligence and fairness. Beatriz, the quietest, became the mediator of conflicts, the heart of the community. Tomé realized that his role was that of a guardian and administrator.
One night, while reviewing the books, Catarina made a disturbing discovery: “My father’s debts were greater than we imagined.” Madalena brought old papers. “He was going bankrupt. Domingos Ferreira was one of his main creditors. That’s why he wants the estate.” “He had,” Madalena corrected with an enigmatic smile. “I found a clause. If the debts are paid within a year, Ferreira’s rights are nullified.” “And how will we pay?” Beatriz asked. “By selling part of the production directly to the coastal merchants,” Catarina explained. “Cutting out the middlemen my father used.” “That will generate more enemies,” Tomé warned. “We already have enemies,” Madalena said. “The difference is that now we know who they are.”
Tomé, watching the three sisters work together, understood that he had become part of a family fighting for their survival.
Ten years passed. The Santa Cruz do Vale estate was unrecognizable. Where there had once been only sugarcane, cotton and cassava now grew. There were small masonry houses for the workers and a school for their children. The estate thrived.
Madalena had become a respected administrator throughout the region. Catarina had studied medicine and now treated people from all the neighboring estates. Beatriz had transformed the chapel into a place of peace, and people came from afar to hear her prayers.
And Tomé had become a free man who had chosen to stay.
One afternoon, a luxurious carriage drove up the road. A well-dressed young man descended from it. “I am looking for Mr. Tomé. My name is Gabriel Ferreira, son of Domingos Ferreira.” Tomé tensed. Old Ferreira had died five years earlier, consumed by hatred. “I have come to apologize,” Gabriel said, to Tomé’s and Madalena’s surprise, who had appeared at the door. “My father was wrong.” He pulled a document from his jacket. “This is the last debt contract my father held over these lands. I have come to burn it.” There, in front of them, Gabriel threw the paper into the fire. The flames consumed the document. “Now you are completely free,” he said.
That night, the family gathered in the library. “You know,” Madalena said suddenly, “that you can leave now. There is nothing tying you here anymore.” Tomé turned to look at the three sisters. Beatriz was watching him with gentle eyes. Catarina had closed her book. Madalena looked at him with unusual vulnerability. “I know,” Tomé replied softly. “So why do you stay?” Catarina asked. Tomé sat down. “Because I learned that freedom is not just the absence of chains. It is having a place to belong. When I arrived here, I was property. Your father turned me into a tool. But you three… you turned me into a person, into family.” “You transformed us too,” Beatriz said softly. “My father saw us as burdens,” Catarina added. “You saw us as capable people.” Madalena stood up and looked out the window at the moonlit lands. “I think my father believed he was using you. But in the end, you used the opportunity he gave you to become something greater than he ever was.” “It wasn’t just me,” Tomé corrected. “It was all of us, together.”
In the years that followed, the story of the Santa Cruz do Vale estate became legend. The tale of the colonel who defied conventions, of the three small-statured sisters but giants in determination, and of the slave who became a lord and chose to be a companion.
As Tomé aged, he enjoyed sitting on the porch at sunset. He watched the productive fields and the thriving community. Madalena, also gray-haired but just as perceptive, sat beside him. “Have you ever regretted it?” she would ask. And Tomé always answered the same way: “Never for staying. I learned here that sometimes true freedom comes from choosing your own chains.”
As the sun set over the fields, the story of that improbable family continued to be written, demonstrating that the greatest empires are not built with iron and fear, but with the courage to challenge the world and the audacity to love what the world rejects.
