In the old days, when prayers rather than maps guided people through the mountains, a golden Radegast is said to have stood on Radhošť's summit. The god of the sun, harvest and hospitality looked down from the region's highest point on valleys filled with hearth smoke. Mountain folk climbed to him with offerings: honey, grain, the first milk of spring. Around the idol burned a fire that must never go out. At the summer solstice there was dancing on the summit, and offerings were made to a white bull.
The mountain itself was said to be hollow. Beneath the pastures and beechwoods ran passages and halls where Radegast's priests guarded treasures gathered from all over Moravian Wallachia. There, in the darkness below the summit, they hid the golden idol when word of a new faith began to spread from Velehrad.
That news had two names: Cyril and Methodius. The brothers from Thessaloniki, who brought writing and the Word to Moravia, are said to have reached the foot of Radhošť. The story tells of a night spent beside a spring in the valley. When the morning mist lifted, they saw the golden idol gleaming on the summit in the sunlight. They climbed the path now walked by every pilgrim from Pustevny. People from the foothills joined them, curious to see who would face whom on the mountain.
At the summit, Methodius is said to have stood silent for a long time. Then he told the mountain folk that he would leave them their mountain, their fire and their songs. Only the idol would go: it took and gave nothing. Radegast's statue was thrown from the cliff. What happened next has two versions. In one, it rolled into the valley and still lies under moss in a ravine. In the other, the priests carried it underground in time and blocked the entrance. On the sacrificial site, the brothers then raised a cross – the first of many that stood on the summit over the centuries before today's chapel was built.
Radegast, as so often with old gods, never quite left. He is said to dwell in the underground halls, guarding the treasure left there with him. Only the mountain knows the entrances to his realm: sometimes they open in Cyrilka, the long fissure cave just below the ridge; sometimes in Volářka beneath the summit. Shepherds told of holes where a dropped stone kept falling and falling, without ever seeming to reach the bottom. In great storms, they said, the mountain rumbled as though something heavy had rolled over in its depths.
This much is known about the treasure: it opens once a year, on Good Friday, when the Passion – the biblical account of Christ's suffering and death – is read in churches. Anyone who finds the entrance then may take handfuls, but must neither speak nor look back. There is a tale of a farmer from Bečva who found the gold. At the exit he remembered the cap he had left inside. He looked back, and the rock closed. For the rest of his life he returned to the mountain every Good Friday, waiting for it to open again. It never did.
When the chapel was consecrated on the summit in 1898, old people from Trojanovice are said to have declared the mountain finally at peace. Above, a cross and a bell; below, in the darkness, the old god. Between them, the ridge that people still climb today, drawn by one or the other. The mountain, it seems, has room for both.
Jan Jiří Středovský first recorded this Baroque legend. Many later versions circulate; it is no historical source.