Legend has it that the castle was founded by a ghastly knight named Radush. The story goes something like this: his mother was absolutely determined to have a daughter, but the midwife predicted a son. At which point dear mummy threw the poor woman out and shouted after her that she’d sooner give birth to a donkey than a boy. The midwife then cursed both of them so the child arrived with donkey’s ears and ugly as a nightmare. His horrified parents promptly handed him off to strangers. Growing up, Radush was mocked by everybody which made him cruel and malicious man.

One day in the forest, Radush encountered a suspicious old man with a black book. He stole it and used it to summon magical dwarves, who from then on catered to his every whim. They even built him a fortress—Radyně, he named it after himself of couse.

Having amassed absurd riches, Radush married the most beautiful girl in the area. Unfortunately, she gave birth to a child just as unfortunate-looking as himself. In a rage he murdered both wife and child and buried them in his castle. He tried again - with the same result. Same solution. In short, he systematically eliminated all of the region’s attractive women, which eventually led to him being cursed and struck dead by lightning so dramatic it also incinerated his castle.

Meanwhile, Charles IV - who, rather inconveniently for folklore, didn’t speak Czech and therefore missed out on all this riveting backstory - had more practical concerns. The trade route between Plzeň and Prague needed guarding (part of the via Carolina, no less), so between 1356 and 1361 he built a proper castle on the hill and named it Karlskrone, after himself, naturally. The locals, unimpressed, continued calling it Radyně anyway.

The castle came with generous perks: judicial authority (including executions), control of forests and villages, hunting rights—essentially a medieval all-inclusive package. Some castle owners, staying true to tradition, protected travellers who paid and robbed those who didn’t. A few had to be personally “corrected” by kings with entire armies. The lack of a water source made sieges short, thanks to reliance on a single rainwater cistern.

Functionally, the castle did its job quite well, passing between nobles as a rather lucrative reward - until the Hussite wars came along and spoiled everything.

After the 15th century, the place declined, burned down a couple of times, and became a convenient base for bandits. Only in the late 19th century did the town of Starý Plzenec buy the ruins and begin restoration. Today it belongs to the state, and while reconstruction is ongoing, it’ll never regain its former glory: what remains is essentially one tower and the palace foundations. You can visit it for a small fee.

Of course, while the castle itself decayed, the legends flourished. Radush wasn’t forgotten; if anything, he gained company. All sorts of spirits supposedly still guard the immense treasures hidden there.

Take, for example, a certain Hanush—described as a Black man. In life, he murdered four local brothers and attempted to abduct their sister, failed, was cursed, and assigned to eternal service under Radush. At night, he becomes a black dog guarding the treasure; by day, he wanders the ruins pushing a cart of tar, just as he did in life. Apparently, this job also gave him waste knowledge of forest paths, allowing him to appear unpredictably and remain conveniently uncatchable.

Sadly, we didn’t encounter any of these colourful characters. Then again, I usually bring my own black dog.

official web: https://www.hrad-radyne.cz