The village of Zavlekov is located 16 km from Klatov in the direction of Horažďovice. Dluhomil from Velhartice built a fortress on a high rock, which had been abandoned since 1544. Only the masonry of the residential tower-shaped palace connected to the round bastion has survived from it. The remains of the fortress were transformed into a romantic ruin by Count Taaff, the owner of the estate, in the mid-19th century. In the second half of the 16th century, a new fortress was built in the middle of the village, of which only the late Gothic portal has survived. A granary was built from the remains of the fortress - a manor's granary, which is classified as a technical monument. Spýchar was originally a fortress of the Dlouhoveskés from the 16th century.

The late Baroque Church of the Holy Trinity was built at the instigation of Count F.X. Taaffe in 1773. A late Gothic stone baptistery stands in front of the church.

On the northern edge of the village, four 250-year-old commemorative linden trees are protected by God's torment.

In the nearby settlement of Nová Hospoda, Rudolf Mayer (1837 - 1865), poet of the group of the almanac Máj, was born. From the torso of his poetic work, the most famous socially tuned ballad V poledne.

On the way from the Valcha pond to Ústalče, near the tourist path, there is a prehistoric oval Hradec fort of 1.7 ha with a well-preserved stone rampart and a moat.

Source: Zavlekov municipality leaflet and


About the meadow under the yard

When Lord Nalžovský bought the Zavlekovský manor, this manor had plenty of fields, but few meadows. Almost all the meadows belonged to the neighbors. The biggest meadow was under the yard. The new lord chief thought for a long time how he would get this meadow. He offered them money, but the Zavlekovskis were doing well at the time, so they didn't want it.
The old musketeer, who had lived with you since you were a child, advised the superior to prepare a feast for all the neighbors and not to skimp on beer or wine. "I will still host and feed them!" shouted the chief: "And what of that", he asked more mildly. "When they get drunk," explained the mischievous musketeer, "they'll offer you the meadow themselves. Or they'll submit to it for a few such throws. I know them." The master thought for a while, the advice seemed good to him, and therefore he asked permission from the master. On Sunday, they invited the neighbors to a large house decorated with aspen, where they ate and drank merrily. The chief was just smiling and condescendingly talking to the neighbors. "And they know what, Mr. Chief," suddenly says the drunken magistrate, "if they are such a good lord, we will let them have the meadow if you arrange a few more of these throws for us." The head master's eyes sparkled, he winked at the musketeer and he ran to the office so that the scribe would come quickly to write the contract. The chief himself weighed beer, wine, brandy was poured so that the neighbors would drown their souls, lose their minds and memory. When the neighbors slept off after the feast, it seemed to many that he had done something stupid, but he didn't and didn't remember. Meadow - signatures, beer, wine - a lot of beer and wine, they remember everything as if in a dream, but what they signed, they could not and could not remember.

The magistrate sent a petition around the village. Neighbors are slowly gathering for a meeting. They sit around on the benches and are silent, they have already remembered. One hummed: "If we hadn't been drinking and if we hadn't been signing..." What if. "Now it's too late to chase," decided the magistrate. "Since yesterday, the meadow is the man's, and we have a good time twice a year. What's up, that's why I won't break my head," he consoled the other. "The meadow is bad, it's a swamp, only sedge grows there, what a pity". The magistrate was nice to the neighbors, but he himself was grumpy. The neighbors quarreled, but wisely kept silent, because they could not blame anyone for what they had done foolishly. The women were more vigorous, almost too lively. They got to the manager, they did him a disservice, but they couldn't cancel the entry with the signatures.

They wailed and wept for the meadow of sorrow. Time passed slowly, the grass grew in the meadow, flowers of all colors played in the sun, and the reapers - workers lined up and started mowing. It was a summer morning, not a cloud in the sky, as if smiling, but before they reached the first row, the sky darkened and it started to rain. That year, the chief had a hard time getting hay under the roof. When the women came to the meadow to turn the hay, it started to rain and they had to dry the floors and threshing floors. The second year this history was repeated and the third summer again. "The rain is the tears of the women who cried so much for the meadow," whispered the people of Zavlek and the manor's family.

Years passed, the new generation took turns in the village and in the yard, but when they started to mow the manor's meadow, it always started to rain.

She went to the grass once, it was at night. He comes to the meadow under the yard, what he sees. In the meadow, twelve women in white robes spin slowly in a wheel and cry. The second-in-command did not go any further, she fled to her barracks. The next day, she spread the news around the village, and after that night they called the manor's meadow a tearful one. In 1924, during the land reform, this meadow again became the property of the Zavlek family.

Author: František Jiříček, Zavlekov and surroundings, Chodské nakladatelství, 1992.


Jaroslav from Zavlekov

Jaroslav from Zavlekov was also among the gentlemen who made a name for themselves at the tournaments. He couldn't last at home because he chased wild animals for days. Only when there were large supplies did he leave the hunt and go to one of the neighboring castles to take part in the festivities. Once, when he came to the tournament, he had an argument with Mr. Berka from Dubé. Being of a violent nature, he pulled the sword from its sheath and stabbed Mr. Berka. The gentlemen quickly ran together, overpowered Jaroslav and threw him into prison. He was to be beheaded in the coming days. When the convict learned about the sentence, he thought about how to get out of prison. He managed to escape and he returned to his castle. He trained his soldiers with iron discipline, with whom he fortified the castle and from there undertook robberies in the surrounding area. Word soon spread in Bohemia that it was unsafe to drive around Zavlekov. Buyers preferred to drive far, just so they wouldn't have to drive around Jaroslava Castle. The castle was also in awe of his cruelty. Anyone who tried to resist was imprisoned. That's also why Jindřich of Lipá captured the castle in vain when he wanted to bring Jaroslav to justice. But even among the men-at-arms there was a disaffected person who instigated a rebellion in the castle. When Jaroslav found out about it, he ordered the bandit to be thrown into the back ditch. However, he did not accidentally kill himself, because he caught on to the bushes when he fell into the ditch. After the rescue, he promised Jaroslav cruel revenge.

The lord of the castle went through a secret passage from the castle to a nearby chapel. The approaching clatter of horses' hooves interrupted him from his prayer. He looked out of the chapel window, but immediately jumped back. An army was approaching Zavlekov, led by that traitor. He immediately realized that his order had not been obeyed or that the armorer had somehow managed to escape. There was nothing left now but to leave the region as quickly as possible.

For a long time no one knew about him, many thought that perhaps he was killed during the siege of the castle and was buried unknown with the slain.

After some time, a hermit came to the region and settled here. Everyone knew him by the name Augustýn. He was popular with the people for his piety and God-fearing life. People came to him from afar, seeking comfort from him. However, once they did not see the hermit in the hermitage. So they went to look for the chapel. He was kneeling at the altar and seemed to be praying. They waited, but when their wait was too long, they walked closer to him and froze. The hermit was dead. So they took him to carry him to the hermitage, they noticed that the book he was holding in his hand was not a prayer book. They looked at her and were speechless with surprise. In the book they found the biography of the hermit, who was none other than Jaroslav from Zavlekov.

Author: František Jiříček, Zavlekov and surroundings, Chodské nakladatelství, 1992.