Many centuries ago, when old Prague still breathed dust and mystery, and when the shadows in the narrow streets were deeper than today, strange things happened on Kozí plácek, a forgotten corner beneath Týn Church. It was a small square, paved with rough stones, lined with crooked houses with high gables, where few dared to linger after dark. The air there smelled of dampness, old wood, and occasionally fresh bread from a nearby bakery, but with the arrival of night, a heavy, chilling weight that gripped the heart was added to these scents.
It was there, in one of those ancient houses with windows looking directly onto the square, that a woman lived. She was beautiful, that had to be admitted. Her hair was black as raven’s wings, her eyes deep and mysterious as forest springs, and her figure graceful as a willow by a stream. However, she had something about her that drove people away. It was said of her that she “had no great glory,” which in the language of the burghers of that time meant that her reputation was not the best, or that some invisible curse clung to her. Whatever the case, the truth remained that none of the young men who dared to seek her favor lasted long with her. They came full of hope, enchanted by her beauty, but left with faces pale with fear, eyes wide with horror, and never returned to Kozí plácek.
People whispered. They whispered that the woman was cursed, that the shadow of an ancient sin lay upon her, or that she herself was perhaps connected to dark forces. Children avoided her, women crossed themselves before her, and men lowered their gaze when she walked down the street. But she continued to live, alone in her house, her face eternally veiled in sorrow and mystery.
Kozí plácek was quiet, too quiet. Only the wind occasionally played with cobwebs in the corners of houses, and distant church bells struck the hours. But with the arrival of deep night, when the city plunged into sleep and only watchmen blew their horns, things began to happen on the square that struck terror into one’s bones.
At first, it was just sounds. A faint, grating clinking, as if distant chains were being dragged over stones. Then came a rumbling, distant but distinct, as if a heavy cart was rolling over the cobblestones. And then it came. From the darkness of a narrow alley leading to Týn Courtyard, a light emerged. Not the calm light of a lantern, nor the flickering flame of a torch, but a glowing, orange-red radiance that danced and pulsed, casting terrifying, elongated shadows on the surrounding houses.
And with that radiance came it. A team of fiery goats. Two, sometimes even three goats, with horns spiraling towards the sky and eyes blazing like hot coals, pulled an old, black cart. Their fur seemed woven from flames, and where their hooves struck the stones, hot marks reportedly remained. From the cart emanated the smell of sulfur and burning, which mingled with the cold, grave-like air. And in the cart, on a heap of darkness and shadows, lay a figure. It was a girl, dressed in white, but her face was deathly pale, her eyes closed, and her hair spread out like a wreath of withered flowers. It was a dead girl.
The team of fiery goats passed through Kozí plácek, always slowly and with terrifying regularity. It stopped directly in front of the beautiful woman’s house. The glow from the goats and the cart illuminated her windows, and those who dared to watch from hiding swore that in one of the windows they saw the silhouette of the woman, standing silently and watching the ghostly procession with an expression of deep pain and perhaps even recognition. Then the cart turned and disappeared back into the darkness, leaving behind only cold and the smell of burning.
No one knew what this team meant. Some said it was the devil’s own cart, come to claim the soul of a sinner. Others, that it was a curse that had plagued the woman’s family for generations. And the bravest, or the most insane, claimed that the dead girl in the cart was the beautiful woman’s former lover, or perhaps her sister, who had died a violent death and now visited her to warn her or drag her along.
The young men who courted the beautiful woman encountered these rumors not just in tavern whispers. Everyone who tried to establish a lasting relationship with her sooner or later saw that team. Once it was the son of a wealthy merchant, who was about to ask for her hand in marriage. The second night after his declaration of love, the fiery cart passed through Kozí plácek, and in the morning the young man was found on the verge of madness, mumbling about burning horns and dead eyes. Another time it was a valiant soldier who returned from war and fell in love with her melancholic beauty. He too tried to break the barrier around her, but after one night spent near her, when the rumbling of hooves was heard and Kozí plácek was illuminated by a hellish glow, he disappeared from Prague and was never heard from again.
The beautiful woman remained alone. Her beauty withered under the weight of loneliness and the mystery that surrounded her. Her house remained dark and silent, and only at night, when Kozí plácek plunged into the deepest darkness, did that team of fiery goats with the dead girl appear. It was her curse, her shadow, that drove away everyone who tried to approach her. People avoided Kozí plácek even more, and when they had to pass through, they hurried, crossed themselves, and prayed that they would not encounter the sight of burning horns and dead eyes.
And so it continued for many years, until the beautiful woman herself disappeared. Her house remained empty, the windows vacant and cold. But the legend of the team of fiery goats on Kozí plácek did not disappear. On the contrary, it grew stronger and became part of Prague’s legends. And to this day, it is said that on cold, dark nights, when the wind whistles between the old houses and the Moon hides behind the clouds, it is possible to hear a faint clinking of chains and the rumbling of hooves on Kozí plácek. And if you dare to look into the darkness, you might see that terrifying glowing radiance approaching, and in the cart, you might glimpse the reflection of the dead girl, who is the eternal witness to an ancient curse and the loneliness of the beautiful woman from Kozí plácek.