COTTINGHAM is a well-built, picturesque village, midway between Hull and Beverley, on the ancient road, but a quarter of a mile distant from the modern highway. It is a place of great antiquity, dating from the ancient British period, and deriving its name from Ket, a Celtic female deity, with the Saxon suffixes of ing and ham. In the days of Edward the Confessor, it belonged to one Gamel, who is supposed to have held a Thursday market there; and at the time of the Domesday Book, the manor, four miles in length, with five fisheries of 8,000 eels, was held by Hugh, son of Baldrick.

It was granted by William the Conqueror to Robert de Stuteville, surnamed Front de Boeuf, from whom it descended to Robert de Stuteville, or d'Estoteville, who was Sheriff of Yorkshire, twenty-first Henry II., and from him to William de Stuteville, temp. John, who, for some offence, was excommunicated by the Archbishop of York. He appealed to the King, who came to Cottingham to investigate the matter, and in the sequel compelled the prelate to give him absolution. Moreover, he granted to de Stuteville a charter empowering him to castellate his manor-house, and hold a weekly market and annual fair.

Nicholas de Stuteville died seventeenth Henry III., leaving two daughters, Joan and Margaret, as his co-heiresses, the former of whom married Hugh de Wake, descended from Leofric, viceroy Earl of Mercia, and his wife the famous Godiva, and from Hereward le Wac (the Wake), Lord of Brunne, the last, and one of the most formidable, opponents of the Norman Duke William, in his conquest of England. John, his grandson, was summoned as a baron twenty-third Edward I., whose daughter, Margaret, married Edmund of Woodstock, Earl of Kent, third son of King Edward I., and had issue, Joan, "the fair maid of Kent," who inherited the Barony of Wake, which she transmitted to her issue by her first husband, Thomas de Holand, and which fell in abeyance in 1497, as it still continues. She married, secondly, Edward, the Black Prince, and by him was mother of King Richard II.

King Edward I. was celebrating Christmas with the Wakes at Cottingham, when, being out hunting, he came to Wyke-super-Hull, and, struck with its capabilities as a port, granted the charter which laid the foundation of its future greatness, and changed its name to Kingstown-upon-Hull; and at the same time gave his host a charter of free warren over his manor, and authority to erect a gallows for the execution of criminals. Thomas, his son, in the following reign, obtained a charter of confirmation, with the privilege of holding a weekly market and two annual fairs, and authority to convert his residence into a castle of defence, and to garrison it with armed men. This Thomas founded, adjacent to the castle, a monastery of Austin Friars, on a site with a defective title, in consequence of which it was removed to Haltemprice, on another part of the estate.

The feudal barony was held in capite by the service of one barony, and consisted of 4,000 acres, with £200 yearly rental from free tenants.

It was a beautiful August day in the year 1540. The reapers were in the fields about Cottingham, sickle in hand, cutting down the golden corn, and lumbering wains with solid wooden wheels, and drawn by oxen, were carrying away the sheaves to garner in the homesteads; the fruit of a thousand trees in the orchards surrounding the village hung, rich and luscious, pendant from the boughs, and ripening to perfection under the bright sunshine. The village consisted of a scattering of cross-timbered houses with wattled and mud-walled frames, latticed windows, and thatched roofs. From the midst thereof rose in proud and lofty dignity the majestic walls, turrets, and bastions of the Stutevilles, the Wakes, and now of the Holands, surrounded by a moat, which was crossed by a drawbridge, and the entrance defended by a barbican and a portcullis. Upon its battlements might be seen three or four men-at-arms, lounging lazily about, and amusing themselves by watching the passage of vessels and boats up and down the Humber. The pleasant clack of the baronial mill, and the occasional uplifted voices of the denizens of the farm-yards and pastures, alone broke the silence of the slumberous summer afternoon. In a hamlet within ken of the out-lookers on the parapets of the castle might be seen the now deserted house of the Augustinian Friars, at Haltemprice; for here no longer the Canons dropped their beads, muttered their prayers, or chanted their anthems; the ruthless hand of Henry had driven them forth upon the wide world to become supplicants for charity, alongside those who had erstwhile found succour at their gate. The priory and site had in the present year been granted to Thomas Culpepper, but he had not yet taken possession, and it lay desolate and silent, as did, at the same time, many another noble abbey and priory, scattered over the face of England.

Lord Wake, as he was called by courtesy, although he was only a tenure Baron, had been out in the direction of the now thriving town of Kingston-upon-Hull, and about the middle of the afternoon he came riding over the drawbridge, and passed through the arched gateway into the courtyard of his castle. Upon his fist he carried a favourite hawk, and he was accompanied by his falconer, and three or four liveried retainers. He leaped agilely from his horse, which was taken charge of by a groom, and, handing his hawk to the falconer, he passed through a portal to the domestic apartments, where he was met by his wife, a singularly beautiful woman, not much past the bloom of girlhood, and as modest, chaste, and pious as she was charming in feature, person, and demeanour. "What sport have you had this morning, husband mine?" inquired she, after an affectionate embrace. "Excellent," he replied; "my falcon has done wonders, he brought down a heron, who, from his size, must have been the patriarch of the shaw; but, dearest life! sport of that kind, brave as it may be, is as naught to the happiness I experience in thy dear society." Other expressions of endearment of a similar kind passed as they sat down to dinner, composed chiefly of venison and boar's flesh. Lord Wake was a great hunter in the surrounding woods of his domain, and as he sat at dinner he was surrounded by half a dozen petted boar and stag hounds, who gambolled at will about the apartment, or sat on their haunches, looking up at their master in anxious expectation of stray bones, which were thrown to them with no niggard hand.

The meal passed over almost in silence, which was only broken occasionally by remarks and discussion on domestic topics; but when it was finished, and Lady Wake had taken up her embroidery-frame, her husband told her that his sport had brought him to the gates of Kingstown, where he learnt that the King was in the town, who had arrived there unexpectedly. He was on his progress to York to meet his nephew, James V. of Scotland, and had come by a circuitous route "for fear of the enraged people," who, exasperated at the dissolution of the religious houses, and the King's assumption of supremacy over the Church, had two or three years previously raised a formidable insurrection, which they denominated the "Pilgrimage of Grace." The Mayor (Henry Thurcross), Lord Wake said, had sent the Sheriff to meet his Highness at the "boarded bridge" of Newland, on the confines of the county of Hull; had himself, with the aldermen, received him with great obeisance and due formalities at Beverley-gate, and had conducted him to the Manor Hall, the usual residence of Royalty when in the town, where he now was enjoying the splendid hospitality of the Corporation.

"The caitiff," exclaimed Lady Wake, "what does he want down here? His presence betokens no good, and woe betide those with whom he sojourns."

"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.