Panas's Mushrooms

- Your face is running, Father, and your beard is crawling onto your shoulder! - Who is sitting inside you? Such were the conversations on Sunday toward evening in the yard of Kyrylo the headman: Panas tied to a bench, half the village crossing themselves, the priest going pale. But hold on, good friends, because it didn't start with a devil at all.

It started in the morning in the kitchen, and before that Panas had wolfed down a whole handful of mushrooms from somebody else's bowl in the entry hall. Good things, he says, shouldn't go to waste. That bowl was Paraska's. She had brought two baskets from the forest: a big one for drying, and into the small bowl she had set aside little bluish mushrooms - to take to the healer and ask what sort of filth they were.

She set it in the entry hall of the inn and ordered that nobody touch it. After yesterday, Panas was hungry. - Is this edible? From the kitchen: - Don't touch the mushrooms! Panas heard only "...the mushrooms." He ate them and even said thank you. Half an hour later he's sitting by the counter, staring at the wall. - Ivan. - What? - Does your inn always breathe? - Panas, have you been drinking this morning? - See, here's the thing. That's what I thought at first too.

Then he raised his palm to the light and set about counting his fingers. The first time he got six. The second - four. The third time he lost count and hid his hand in his pocket like something stolen. - Ivan, stay close to me. I suspect something. Kateryna was walking past the inn. A perfectly ordinary Kateryna, with a rake. But Panas gazed at her as if a tsarina were floating over the puddles. - Marysia? - What Marysia? Panas touched her cheek.

- You've aged a little. - Panas, I am going to kill you right now. He smiled tenderly, having decided this was courtship, and grabbed her below the back. Kateryna whacked him with the rake handle so hard that Panas folded in half and for a moment weighed whether straightening up was worth it. - Ooh, Marysia never hit like that. - I'll do it again right now, so you remember for certain. Panas began backing away and suddenly saw a black hen behind Kateryna. - Oh, mercy.

The hen was scratching about by the fence and had no idea it had just become the greatest terror of Panas's life. - Ivan, don't move. - Why? - It's biding its time. - For what? - For me to run. And you know, the old man did run. The hen, out of fright, dashed after him. Now Panas had no doubt at all - it was chasing him.

He flew into the first house - Oksana's, who had just lain down after the beets. He crawled under the coverlet with her to hide. In the half-dark he groped something soft and got a good firm grip on it. - Hands off my breasts, you've gone stark raving mad! He jerked his hand back. Mykola appeared in the doorway. His wife in bed, Panas beside her, belt undone, both of them red. - Mykola, quiet. It's looking for us. Mykola glanced at his hand. - It's already found you!

Panas leapt off the bed, got tangled in the coverlet and bolted for the door. Mykola after him. Panas flew out into the yard first, the coverlet second, and Mykola's cursing kept trying to catch up with him for a long while after. While he ran through the gardens, the village was building theories: Panas had groped Kateryna. Then Kateryna and Oksana.

And by the well they were already saying that Panas had been walking the village since morning, picking out women to grope as well. The old women locked their gates and took up posts at the windows so as, God forbid, not to miss the old lecher. Panas was heading straight for Kyrylo the headman, for a terrible truth had been revealed to him: the headman was a fake!

He had seen Kyrylo wipe his face with his sleeve, and when he took his hand away, the nose was no longer the same. - I know everything. - What do you know? - You're not the headman! - Then who am I? - Still finding out, but Kyrylo's nose was different! Kyrylo automatically touched his nose. - Different how? Panas narrowed his eyes. - Ha! You've already put it back. That's when I came running from the inn.

- Kyrylo, where's your old nose? - Panas kept pressing. - What old nose?! - The one that looked to the left. - Mine was always like this! Kyrylo's wife peered out of the house. - Don't lie. After the fair it got even more crooked. Panas turned to me slowly. - You heard that, Ivan? His wife confirmed it! The nose is somebody else's! - Confirmed what, exactly? Panas only shook his head sadly. He could see that I had been "replaced" too.

He walked all the way around Kyrylo, peered behind his collar and pronounced the verdict: - They've hidden Kyrylo somewhere and put this one up in his place. - Then who's the headman now? - Kyrylo choked. - I am. Kyrylo's wife looked at the one, then at the other. - Well, it can hardly get worse. Panas meanwhile took the carrying yoke from the yard, raised it like a mace and declared himself acting headman - until this one turned back.

And then he dragged the crowd that had gathered off to Daryna's house behind the fence. Panas ordered a bewildered Baba Daryna to cover her mirror, because the second Daryna in there moved a moment late. Daryna turned her head to the right, then to the left. The reflection, to her misfortune, did the same. - Seems normal. - It's pretending while you're watching. Panas whistled. - Don't whistle, you'll whistle the money away! - Money won't help now, woman.

Through the window he saw the hens and rushed at them with the yoke. They scattered across the yard, and one, out of fright, flew up onto the thatch. Panas froze. - Ah. The head one has escaped up top. - What head one? Panas looked at Daryna; in his gaze one could read that he had grown disappointed in her mental faculties. - Well, they didn't organize themselves, did they!

A moment later he fell silent, went out, stood in the middle of the street with the yoke and spoke to an empty corner by the fence. - I won't go. Pause. - Because I don't want to. Pause. - Go yourself. Then he crossed himself. - Now that's just insulting! Someone whispered: - He's definitely talking to a devil. Kateryna, Oksana's bed, the headman's foreign nose, the hen on the thatch - it all finally came together. The village gasped - possessed!

It took four to catch him. Four healthy men couldn't hold one old man, for Panas was certain that four enormous crucian carp were dragging him, and he kept slipping out like a fifth. In the end they tied him to the bench. Someone brought holy water. Someone garlic, though nobody knew what for. Daryna brought poppy seed. - What's the poppy seed for? - How should I know? They say it helps against witches. - But that's for a witch. - And will it be any worse for the devil?

They sent for the priest. The priest bent over Panas. - Your face is running, Father, and your beard is crawling onto your shoulder! - Who are you? - Panas. - Who is sitting inside you?! Just then Paraska flew into the yard, dragging the healer behind her. - It was him, he ate them! From the small bowl! The healer looked at Panas.

- All of them? - Well, I'm not a pig. The priest slowly lowered the cross. - So, are we casting the devil out? Panas squinted up at him. - I don't rightly know, Father. Maybe let him stay?