“Achilles, thou biddest me tell the people why Apollo is wroth with them.  Lo!  I will tell thee, but thou must first swear to stand by me, for I know that what I shall say will anger King Agamemnon, and it goes ill with common men when kings are angry.”

“Speak out, thou wise man!” cried Achilles; “for I swear by Apollo that while I live no one shall lay hands on thee, no, not Agamemnon’s self, though he be sovereign lord of the Greeks.”

Then the blameless seer took heart, and spake:  “It is not for vow or offering that Apollo is wroth; it is for his servant the priest, for he came to ransom his daughter, but Agamemnon scorned him, and would not let the maiden go.  Now, then, ye must send her back to Chryse without ransom, and with her a hundred beasts for sacrifice, so that the plague may be stayed.”

Then Agamemnon stood up in a fury, his eyes blazing like fire.

“Never,” he cried, “hast thou spoken good concerning me, ill prophet that thou art, and now thou tellest me to give up this maiden!  I will do it, for I would not that the people should perish.  Only take care, ye Greeks, that there be a share of the spoil for me, for it would ill beseem the lord of all the host that he alone should be without his share.”

“Nay, my lord Agamemnon,” cried Achilles, “thou art too eager for gain.  We have no treasures out of which we may make up thy loss, for what we got out of the towns we have either sold or divided; nor would it be fitting that the people should give back what has been given to them.  Give up the maiden, then, without conditions, and when we shall have taken this city of Troy, we will repay thee three and four fold.”

“Nay, great Achilles,” said Agamemnon, “thou shalt not cheat me thus.  If the Greeks will give me such a share as I should have, well and good.  But if not, I will take one for myself, whether it be from thee or from Ajax or from Ulysses; for my share I will have.  But of this hereafter.  Now let us see that this maiden be sent back.  Let them get ready a ship, and put her herein, and with her a hundred victims, and let some chief go with the ship, and see that all things be rightly done.”

Then cried Achilles, and his face was as black as a thunder-storm:  “Surely thou art altogether shameless and greedy, and, in truth, an ill ruler of men.  No quarrel have I with the Trojans.  They never harried oxen or sheep of mine in fertile Phthia, for many murky mountains lie between, and a great breadth of roaring sea.  But I have been fighting in thy cause, and that of thy brother Menelaus.  Naught carest thou for that.  Thou leavest me to fight, and sittest in thy tent at ease.  But when the spoil is divided, thine is always the lion’s share.  Small, indeed, is my part,—­’a little thing, but dear.’  And this, forsooth, thou wilt take away!  Now am I resolved to go home.  I have no mind to heap up goods and gold for thee, and be myself dishonored.”