There are mutterings. It has a certain something to it. 

"Enough."

Instantly is their attention garnered. 

There is sense here on both sides. But Agamemnon's word would have been final. 

None of them, of course, is willing to suffer the insult of this upstart woman, who has murdered her own husband, and then presumed not only to intrude upon a council of kings, but even to assume the place of Agamemnon himself, brought to such a pitch of audacity that it can only be called insanity; but equally none of them is especially willing to be the first to speak up. 

But perhaps when the woman cries for mercy it will be possible to lay an invective comment about general weakness, and that could snowball into-

"I appreciate, O Ophellios, your caution and your wisdom, and indeed shall we take pains to placate the Lord Apollo; but I am unmoved, and the traitor must die; and perhaps indeed shall Apollo slay us, but if it be so then we may go down to Hades knowing that it is a higher law, the law of Zeus, that we obey, and that we were unbroken, to the very end. So be it."

“With respect to My Lady – you are not Lord Agamemnon. We need not heed your decision as final.”

He stares at her.

“But cast your vote regardless. In which case, I will consider myself personally responsible for any fate the Kings of Achaea may judge upon the traitor, should he be allowed to live.”

Here and now, the Lord of Pylos looks statuesque on that throne.

“And if he is to be executed… then I shall withdraw my men from this war and signal to the heavens that I had no part in this decision; for my duty is first to my people, and I will protect them from the catastrophe that this death will cause.”

"Agamemnon I am not, for he is dead, as Tantalus and Thyestes before him, who wore his crown; and so it is that rule of Mycenae passes to me as surely as it did to him. Perhaps you will not consider me his equal, for all that you, boy, never knew him, and for all that I have led the Achaeans all the long years of this war; be it so. But then you trust that the Mycenaeans will not follow me, who have fought and bled alongside them, for my sex, and that trust may end you; or else you shall prevail, if a god grant it you, but not before by my blade I send you down to Hades, for here and now, boy, by the strength of Zeus in my arm you cannot stand against me. What shall it be, young king?'

Ophellios stands.

“Then slay also a King of Greece, son of the Olympian lord Apollo, and see what will happen.”

She is on her feet almost as soon as he is, blade drawn and steady. 

"Gladly, rather than die a coward who would spare a traitor. Call now then those who would bury you, and tell them to be ready."

“I charge all of you; sit down. Think. The actions of one traitor will not lead to two of our leaders drawing blood.”

"Perhaps indeed this was his object all along. It is against my own judgement, and I would see him stoned; but if you beg this favour, Ophellios, then for your courage in war I shall bestow the boon, and see him held under guard, while we deliberate, and make sacrifice to Apollo, and read His signs."

...

Any doubts they may have had about her suitability for war are assuaged, at least. 

The boy king is born of Apollo?? Why is he here, then?

…

“Very well. I thank you, Queen Clytaemnestra, for your concession.”

King Ophellios will resume his seat.

He can feel them all staring. His fingertips twitch as though in battle. 

“Then the trial of the traitor Calchas will be held tomorrow, and in the meantime he will be handed over to the custody of the King of Pylos. As I was the cause of us all convening today, I hereby declare the meeting adjourned.”

He waits until he can speak to the Pylian king - not alone, they will never trust him enough to leave him alone again, but as alone as possible - to say:

"Thank you."

Ophellios does not turn around as his retinue leads the old man to the Pylian camp.

But he does respond.

“I did not do it for you.”

"Then why, I beg you?"

“Your death would bring both justice and ruin to the Achaeans. I could not risk that.”

"Wise indeed you are, Ophellios king; I ask you, then, let me go now, far from the hollow ships and the city you besiege; far indeed will I wander, and never again need I trouble you or the other noble kings."

“No.”

"A mighty king too are you made; but I beg you, speak to me, make plain your thoughts and your counsel, in the name of your celestial father; and I shall do likewise."

He sighs. “Calchas, I am no fool. Cease your efforts. You are fortunate that I am unlike most other kings, who by now surely would have had you silenced.”

Well, clearly Phoebus has favoured him so far, in delivering him from swift death at the hands of the Lords of the Achaeans. 

The future is cloudy to him now: perhaps it is his own death of which he speaks, but then again, perhaps not, and deeper in his bones is the knowledge that he should not make this man angry. 

"Thank you, O Lord Ophellios son of Hyranon. What then would you have of me?"

He shakes his head, treading onwards. “I have asked all that I need from you.”

"Have you indeed? Is there nothing now that darkens your heart, nothing now that draws you into doubt; is there nothing you would ask of old Calchas? For indeed, traitor though I am called, I remain far-sighted, and knowing of many things beyond what mortals wot of, and sincere in counsel."