We meet the King this week in the latter stages of his Raging Bull transformation. Two decades on the throne had turned him from a pin-up into a health warning; fat, bearded, and sallow-skinned, Edward was not long for this world. (In keeping with TV’s anchor man dynamic in which men get older but women’s faces are frozen just before they hit thirty, forty-six-year-old Elizabeth’s ageing was economically achieved by someone hiding her Touche Éclat). Once we’d got over all the “Oh look, there’s Baroness Farquingdon whose father supported the Yorkist Earl of La-di-dah and who is now married to Lancastrian Baron Ian of Turncoat, cooee Duchess!” dialogue, The White Queen settled down and got on with the business of royally entertaining us. Its backbiting factions and sulking Dukes made for a choice accompaniment to pyjamas and a glass of wine. It wasn’t taxing, looked intermittently beautiful, and schooled those of us whose history lessons skipped the Roses for more World-y wars with a who’s who of Edwards, Henrys and Elizabeths. Around the midway point, it started to be quite fun. By episode eight, I was very nearly moved by it. That was thanks to Rebecca Ferguson, who’s been consistently good in the series, and whose grief as Elizabeth made Edward’s death an affecting one. As the King’s breaths became shallower, so did the Queen and her children’s security at court. As tense as a high-wire, and as fraught as, well, a dying King’s chamber packed with factions vying for his position, Edward’s final scenes were intimate, claustrophobic, and buzzing with unease. All was prelude to Richard III and Anne’s coronation, at which the Kingmaker’s daughter fulfilled her father’s schemes by taking the throne. Until that scene, The White Queen’s lighting team had insisted the new royal couple’s villainy throughout the episode. Each time the pair appeared, be it to exile Edward’s bit on the side, imprison his sons, or have his brother-in-law executed, they were back-lit like shadowy pantomime baddies. Now bathed in light and up to their elbows in robes, orbs and sceptres, Richard and Anne have finally made it. Long live the King! Erm, about that… Please, if you can, buy our charity horror stories ebook, Den Of Eek!, raising money for Geeks Vs Cancer. Details here.
