Carlisle Cullen: The Beginning

She was in a hurry, she had to find him. With tears streaming down her cheeks and the rest of her face dampened by the foggy weather, she entered the building quickly. She stopped abruptly, remembering where she was. Her head bowed in reverence. She knelt and crossed herself, her hand moving quickly to head, heart, shoulder, shoulder, then pressed palms and fingers together. In her mind she offers her prayer and concerns of safety and well heath. Standing up, her footfalls were again quickened, tapping out a quiet rhythm on the wooden floors. She searches the room, dimly lit by candles and the weak morning sun. Varying hues were cast into the church from the stained glass windows to the pews and floor. He's there, at the front laying prostrated before the pulpit. His usual white pastoral robe is colored in reds and blues cast from the stained glass window scenes of Jesus and his disciples. Seeing him, she speaks in raised tones, loudly enough for him to hear. Echoing off the walls, her voice matches the expression on her face—panic, worry, stress, and fear.

"Parson! Parson! Please forgive my intrusion, but Goody Cullen's time has begun! Her waters have left her body and she is in pain! She instructed me to find you, but she needs the midwife! Please milord, may I send for the midwife?!" Young Agnes had abandoned her duties as a servant in Parson Cullen's home when she heard Anne's sudden cries of pain.

Agnes found him alone in the church sanctuary, laying face down before the large wooden cross above the pulpit. She had interrupted Parson's early Morning Prayer and intercessions with this declaration, and it set him into a fit of unease and ill thoughts. It was certainly not how he expected to spend his time of Holy Reverence.

As a house maiden of 12 years of age, Agnes could be very excitable over the smallest of things. Parson expected no differently this time. He was a man of difficult temperament, and it irritated him that she would dare interrupt in this manner. There was simply no reason good enough to burst in to the sanctuary, shrieking to wake the dead! He was sorely tempted to strike her for this intrusion, and would not allow her to distract him as he finished his contemplations. Parson would likely punish her later, withholding her evening meal and banning her to sleep on the kitchen floor rather than in the servants' quarters.

He did not rise up from his prostrated state to look at her, but he replied, his voice seething. "Yes child, fetch Mistress Davenport and her servant yourself! Retrieve anything she requires to assist Anne, but you are not to be in Anne's presence this day!" he harshly whispered, continuing,. "Also, do not alert anyone else of these events. I shall take that upon myself. Do you understand, Agnes?"

"Yes, milord. I understand," Agnes cowered as she hurried out to do Parson's bidding. Quickly she retreated to the doors of the church, her feet again tap, tap, tapping against the wooden floors of the sanctuary.

Parson had forbade Agnes from Anne's presence, knowing full well that she would not be able to keep her frantic emotions under control during Anne's time of pain and worry. He would not allow Agnes to influence Anne's caring demeanor while she birthed their child. Anne had enough to be concerned with in the coming hours.

Agnes had come into Parson's life as an orphan, at Anne's behest, at 10 years old. Anne had taken her in, as her heart could not turn Agnes away. Officially, she was a ward of the church; however Agnes knew better her place in Parson's home—as a maid servant. Still, Anne looked after her, guiding her, teaching her the ways of a woman's place and duty whenever she herself had a spare moment.

As Parson remained before the pulpit, his thoughts wandered to his beloved. Anne was second only to God in his life, and this was their first child. Inwardly, he adored her, and she was very pleased to be carrying his child. Within his own contemplations though, he was worried for his Anne..

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Deacon John Cullen wed Anne Caldwell last year in this very church, having met her father and family three years ago, when she was 14 years of age. Deacon John was an intensely religious and well spoken man, though known to be dynamic in his opinions. He commanded respect from those under his ward, and only slightly regarded those above him. He was tall and lean in stature, with a distinguished appearance about him. He was somewhat feared and yet admired by the congregate of the Church of Saint Augustine. That his status in the community had risen so quickly in recent years spoke volumes about his character. The people listened and unerringly heeded his words, and admired the ceaseless work he did for Father God.

Anne was a remarkable beauty, and the men in the district had taken notice. Her light blonde hair bundled on her head with loose curls framing her heart shaped face. It was most sincere in its innocence. Her eyes were crystal blue as the sky, and held immeasurable maturity. Young women of her caliber were a rarity in this age. She was quiet and reserved in nature, but genuine and friendly. She was considerate and welcoming, while being respectful to those around her, particularly her father and the elders in the community. Anne was fiercely attentive to her parents and her younger sister; she truly cared about the people in her life. Deacon John had come to learn these things about her as he courted her; he was extremely pleased with her character. That she was blessed with such inner beauty to match her exterior did not go unnoticed by him. Her father was equally pleased that Anne had caught the deacon's eye, and after a brief courtship, Master Caldwell readily consented to her hand in marriage.

Soon after the marriage ceremony Deacon John was installed as the Saint Augustine's Parson. The former Parson had been assigned to a larger congregation, and he petitioned the Archbishop on John's behalf to promote him within his own church. At twenty-four he was one of the younger men in Southwark to achieve such status for a church of St. Augustine's size. It was a moderately sized church; Master and Mistress. Porter having recently added a daughter to their family, making the church body a total of 427 congregants. It was mostly comprised of families; merchants, dock workers and men of average means.

As a man of the clergy, Parson John was aware of the children who did not survive birth, and also the mothers who died while the infant lived. He'd seen this firsthand in the families within St. Augustine's care. The current state of Anne's health was his biggest concern.

His prayers shifted from the well being of his congregation to fervent pleas to Yah-weh to protect Anne. He needed her to live; she could always bear another child when she was in better health. He shifted his position, rising from his belly, on to his knees. He placed his hands on his thighs as if needing the support to hold himself upright. Parson remained there; he felt as if a horse had kicked him in the chest. He found it difficult to breathe, his body attempting to continue the simple act—now a chore—of breathing. Ragged, staggered air sucked in and huffed out heavily as his eyes began to rim red in fighting off the tears. He would not—nay, could not-- allow anyone to see him this way. He was the Pillar of the community, the Rock they all relied upon.

Parson was reluctant to leave the sanctuary as he slowly rose from his knees, his feet felt heavy as he moved to have a seat in the front row pew. If Anne did not survive, he knew enough of himself to understand that his demeanor would only be that of depression and despair. In his anguish he would likely lash out at his servants, or worse, the congregation. Anne helped focused him; where no others could, she kept him within a modicum of restraint. Whenever she would garner the bravery to speak of it to him, he would recoil inwardly at her reminder to have more patience, more understanding. He knew she was right but it wasn't her place to speak of such things, and oft times he reprimanded her gently to hold her tongue. .

Parson's thoughts were amok. Anne's heart may very well be stilled at the coming of dusk, and he didn't need the added burden of child rearing—regardless of whether he had a few servants to do his bidding. Without her, the child would be a hindrance to him. Parson knew Anne had been having some difficulties as her belly swelled with his child, and he prayed to God that she would have strength to endure. The physician had seen her last week at his beckoning. There had been a sickness in the parish as of late. Parson himself was briefly affected by it, but he'd recovered after impassioned prayers to God. Anne had been ill with fever, and she had been un-able to hold down her food for the past six days. Parson worried for her. She was weakened by this illness, and it continued to ravage her still. The child would be early; it was not due for a few more weeks. To give birth now would surely be her undoing.

He needed to divert his thoughts. He walked back to his office, through the side door next to the altar. He knew he would have some time before the child was born, and he needed to give attention to a particular problem that was growing as of late. Only yester-day he received reports regarding a witch in the area who was becoming more brazen with her craft. It was said of her that she made claims of speaking to the dead, casting spells and knowledge of hexes. She is a demon possessed woman, to be sure! He must organize a raid upon her place of dwelling; she must be captured and made to face her crimes against God. She would be dealt with swiftly. Her blasphemous wrong doings in the area had been gaining a following. Only recently had it come to the church's notice.

To blaspheme against God in such a manner is beyond sacrilege! Activities of witchcraft, lycanthropy, divination, leech demons—those who feasted on blood—and the ilk were, thankfully, few and far between. Left ignored though, they would certainly gain a stronghold in the region; something Parson would not allow. He was charged with protecting his flock from such treacherous influences of evil.

He determined that if Anne and the child survived this day and the days to come, he would rejoice in new fatherhood and delay the raid. However, if she did not live on, his anger would be tenfold and the witch would die at the stake on the morn, engulfed in the flames of his disdain of her kind. The death of his Anne would indict the witch to eternal damnation, her soul to be lapped by the eternal embers of Hades. A small part of him hoped for that derision; he needed the cleansing release a raid provided. Until then, he would keep to himself in devotional prayer and contemplation, waiting for the final result of this tumultuous day.