"Bluff King Hal," as he was frequently termed, was no favourite with the better class of ladies; and especially with such as were of a devout turn of mind, and were regular and punctual in the performance of their religious duties, as enjoined by their father-confessors. His propensity for chopping off the heads of his wives, or of divorcing them when a new beauty enthralled his amorous susceptibilities, caused him to be held in detestation by all right-minded women; and his sacrilegious deposition of the Holy Father's authority in England, combined with his so-called brutal dispersion of the religious fraternities and sisterhoods of the realm, and unwarrantable plunder of the holy places of the land, caused him to be looked upon by the devout as an incarnation of Satan. Such were the views of Lady Wake, who felt keenly the loss of Haltemprice, which had been to her a sanctuary of heaven, and to which she had been a most generous benefactor.
Whilst Lord and Lady Wake were conversing on this subject, the sound of a trumpet was heard outside, followed by the opening of the great gate at the summons, "In the King's name," and the clatter of a horse's hoofs over the drawbridge and into the courtyard. Lord Wake hastened out and found an herald seated on horseback, who, when he announced himself as the lord of the castle, gave three blasts of his trumpet, and then delivered his message:—"His Highness the King Henry, the eighth of the name, by the grace of God, defender of the faith, and supreme head of the Church of England, to the Lord of the Barony of Cottingham, usually styled Lord Wake, greeting—It is His Highness's pleasure that on the morrow he will come, God willing, to Baynard Castle, and partake of the hospitality of the noble Baron and Lady Wake. God save the King." In the course of conversation with the magnates of Hull, at the Manor Hall, he had made inquiry respecting persons of note residing in the neighbourhood, and Lord Wake was mentioned as keeping up a magnificent establishment within three or four miles of the gates of Hull, and as being blessed with a wife of surpassing beauty. The King's licentious propensities were at once aroused at hearing this. "Fore God," quoth he, "I will betake me thither, and with mine own eyes see whether this Yorkshire beauty is the paragon you represent her to be;" and he summoned his herald into his presence and despatched him with the above message to Cottingham.
Lord Wake was thrown into consternation at receiving the King's greeting and message, and, before giving an answer, went indoors to consult his wife.
"Holy Mary!" said she, "what a disaster! We must avoid it in some way or other. Never will I meet the woman-slayer and desecrator of God's temples within these walls."
"True," he replied, "we must find some means of averting it if possible, but meanwhile it will be necessary to send a civil and loyal reply," and returning to the courtyard, he bade the herald inform the King that he felt highly flattered at His Highness's condescension in proposing a visit to his humble house, and that on the following day preparations should be made for greeting him in the best way his humble means afforded. When the herald had departed, Lord Wake pondered deeply on the dilemma in which he found himself placed by the King's proffered visit. He felt that it was impossible, except by taking some desperate step, to evade it, but something must be done, as he felt assured that the honour of himself and that of his wife were at stake, well knowing, as he did, the unbridled passion of the King, and that if it were thwarted the most perilous consequences might ensue. The confiscation of his estates might be looked for in such case; but better, thought he, lose my land, than my wife her honour. This train of thought led him to think of his castle, where he had lived so happily with the beloved of his heart, when suddenly the idea struck him—What if I burn down my castle! The King could not come for entertainment amidst its ruined walls and smoking embers, and though I should sacrifice my home, I should preserve what is far dearer to me—my wife, pure and undefiled as when I led her to the altar. The more he thought of the project, the more fully he became assured of its practicability as an effectual bar of defence against the King's intentions. He submitted the idea to Lady Wake, who, without the slightest hesitation, concurred in the proposal.
The seneschal of the castle was then called in—a faithful old retainer, who had been in the family for two or three generations of lords, and who might be intrusted with the keeping of any secret of his master. He was informed of the nature of the peril hanging over the family, and of the method projected by Lord Wake to avert the evil. He had been born and bred up in the castle; knew every nook and corner of it; loved it with a devoted affection, almost as if it had been a thinking, sentient being; and could not without an excess of grief see it destroyed; yet he recognised at once the necessity of the case, and not being able to devise an alternative, so as to save the old towers and walls, undertook, as proposed by his master, to fire the castle that night.
Lord and Lady Wake then proceeded to pack up all the more portable articles of value, jewels, money, family papers, and heirlooms, which were conveyed secretly to the unoccupied Priory of Haltemprice, and thither they went themselves, issuing from a postern, and crossing the moat by means of a raft stationed there for the purpose. When the retainers, men-at-arms, and domestics, all save the sentinals on duty, had retired to rest, the seneschal, heaped together a quantity of combustible materials in proximity to a mass of old and dry woodwork panelling on the walls, which he set fire to. The flames soon caught hold of the woodwork, which, blazing up, got a complete hold of the building. He then rang the alarm-bell and roused up the sleepers, telling them that he had been awakened by the smell of burning. Of course all was done that could be done, under his direction, for the subjugation of the fire, but the appliances were so utterly inefficient, consisting merely of a line of men passing a chain of buckets from hand to hand after being filled from the moat, that the fire soon overcame all their efforts to extinguish it, and the roof soon after falling in, it blazed up into the midnight sky, illuminating the country for miles round. The flames were distinctly visible from Hull and Beverley, and numbers of persons from both towns hurried to the scene of disaster, but could afford no assistance, the fire having by that time gained such an ascendency that they could but stand and gaze, awe-stricken, on the scene of devastation. Intelligence was conveyed to the King the following morning of the "accidental" fire at Baynard Castle, and to show his sympathy he offered to contribute £2,000 towards its restoration, which was respectfully declined by Lord Wake, and the King, after sundry measures for the improvement of the port of Kingstown, crossed the Humber and returned to London.
The tradition adds, further, that this Lord Wake, dying without issue male, the manor was divided between his three daughters, who were respectively married to the Duke of Richmond, the Earl of Westmoreland, and Baron Powis, and that those portions thus acquired the names they still bear of Cottingham Richmond, Cottingham Westmoreland, and Cottingham Powis.
Tradition, however, is prone to error, and in this narrative there are several discrepancies and anachronisms. There was then no Baron Wake, the barony having fallen into abeyance more than a century previously; but the holder of the manor, being a feudal Baron, might bear the title by courtesy. Secondly, Leland saw the ruins of the burnt castle in 1538, two or three years before the visit of King Henry to Hull, and he mentions the division of the manor into four parts as having taken place previously, the fourth part being held by the King.