The year was 1600 and the capital of New Spain kept coming merchants, adventurers and not a few felons, people from broken and Razga who came to the New World in order to enrich themselves as they had the conquerors. One of the men who came to the capital of New Spain in order to engage in commerce, was Don Tristan de Alzúcer who had a grocery business and genres in the Philippines, but already for lack of good business or wanting to open track in the capital to his son of the same name, he arrived one day in that year to the city.
After touring some neighborhoods of ancient Tenochtitlan Alzúcer Don Tristan she went to reside in a house of mediocrity back in the direction of Tlatelolco and installed its trade right there attending with the help of his son, a sturdy strapping young man of good humor and cheerful character.
Tristan had this gift Alzúcer a good friend and adviser, in the person of His Grace, Archbishop Don Fray Garcia de Santa Maria Mendoza, who used to visit him at his trade to talk about the things of the Philippines and the Hispanic land, for They were born in the same village. There talked to the taste of a good wine and the stories of the Pacific Islands had the merchant.
Everything was booming trade in this Don Tristan decided to expand and give variety, to which he sent his young son to the Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz and unhealthy coasts of the region farther east.
He did the bad luck that sick boy Tristan and reached such a degree that his illness was feared for his life. So the messengers who reported to Don Tristan that it was impossible to transfer the patient to the state it was and it would be a matter of right medicines and a miracle to save the young patient said.
Filled with grief over her son's disease and fearing he died, Don Tristan de Alzúcer knelt before the image of the Virgin and promised to walk to the hill shrine if his son was relieved and could return to his side.
Weeks later the boy came to the house of his father, pale, convalescent, but alive and happy as his father in his arms.
They came good times, trade was walking with the careful attention of father and son and with this, Don Tristan forgot his promise, although from time to time, especially at night when counted and recounted their profits, sort of soul remorse came over him as he remembered his promise to the Virgin.
Finally one day carefully wrapped a couple of bottles of wine and went to visit his friend and adviser the Archbishop of Santa María García Mendoza, to speak of remorse, lack of Fulfilment of the promise made to the Virgin of it would be appropriate to do, and anyway had given thanks to the Virgin praying for relief from its v & aacutestago.
-Bastará With that, the prelate said, if you have prayed to Our Lady thanking him, I think there is no need to deliver.
Don Tristan de Alzúcer left the house very pleased archbishop, he went home, to work and forget that promise which had relieved the Archbishop.
But behold, one day, barely dawn morning, Archbishop Fray Garcia de Santana Maria Mendoza went down the street to Mercy when he ran into his old friend Don Tristan de Alzúcer, P & aacutelido, haggard, cadaverous and a robe white that enveloped him, walked praying with a lighted candle in his right hand while his left hand rested on his emaciated chest.
Archbishop recognized him immediately, and although it was more p aacutelido and thinner than the last time they had seen, approached to ask.
- Where are you going at this hour, friend Tristan Alzúcer?
- To fulfill the promise of going to thank the Virgin, he responded with waterfall, hollow, dark voice, the trader arrived from the Philippines.
He said no more and gave him a strange prelate to pay the charge, even though he was relieved of that obligation.
That evening the Archbishop decided to visit his friend, asking him to explain the why had decided to pay the commands to the shrine of the Virgin in the far hill and found him lying dead, lying between four candles while his young son Tristan wept over the body with great sorrow.
With great surprise the prelate saw the cloth that had wrapped the dead, was identical to that dress that morning and saw that the candle held his stiff fingers, was also the same.
My father died at dawn son said between sobs and moans dolorosos-, but before said he should pay not know what promise to the Virgin.
This just checked the Archbishop, Don Tristan Alzúcer was already dead when he said to have found in the street of Mercy.
In the spirit of the prelate's certainly he caught the blame for that soul had returned to the world to pay a promise that he had told her it was not necessary to comply.
Years passed…
Tristan's son died that arrived from the Philippines married and left the New Spain to New Galicia. But the soul of his father continued to terminate the century, wandering around with a lit candle, covered with yellow and rotten shroud.
Since that time, the common people called the alley of this story, The Alley of the Dead, is the same that in time it was dubbed street Dominican Republic.