The Legend of the Juniper

Generations ago, a young bride was murdered on that rocky hillside by travelers seeking money. Her name was forgotten, but her story was not. She was traveling to a convent in Huy for her wedding ceremony when robbers pulled her from the path. She resisted heroically but was ultimately overwhelmed. Her body was buried beneath stones, and her spirit seemed to remain bound to that place.

Months later, on the anniversary of her death, the juniper bush burst into white blossoms, though it was the middle of winter. Villagers passing by stopped and stared at the white wonder on the gray rock. They felt strangely comforted by the sight, as if the dead girl was still trying to tell them something.

The herbalists of Theux gathered berries from the juniper bush and discovered they possessed unusual powers. When they brewed teas from the berries for sick people, they healed faster than with any other remedy. Wounds did not become infected, fevers dropped quickly, and nursing mothers’ milk grew stronger.

A famous healer from Verviers traveled to Theux and stayed for weeks beside the juniper bush to uncover its mysteries. "This is no ordinary plant," he told the villagers. "This is a plant in which the love of the dead lives. She still protects you, even after death." The people carefully brought the healing herbs home in bronze vessels.

A wealthy woodcutter from a nearby village heard of the juniper bush and swore he would cut it down—the roots were valuable, and the timber could fetch good money. He dragged his axe to the rocky hillside and laughed at the warnings of the villagers of Theux.

At his first swing, his axe met resistance, as if the plant were made of iron. Sparks flew. At his second swing, the axe split in two, and half of it flew toward his chest. He fell bleeding and screaming in agony. The villagers rushed to him but could do nothing. He died three days later from infection, his name cursed forever.

The juniper bush still stands on that hillside above Theux, unbroken and ancient. Each year on the anniversary of her death, it blooms white, and no one has ever again tried to harm it. Travelers who pass by while ill eat a handful of berries and find their cure.