Just then they heard a cry. Ayyub hurried away to the women’s
side of the house. ‘What news?’ he asked his sister.
‘Good news, thank God! The child is born. But look at him.
He’s very small and weak. I don’t think that he’ll live through
the night. The mother too is very ill,’ she said.
‘There’s nothing to be done. We must go now!’ Ayyub held his
new son. ‘I’ll call you Yusuf because you must find a new life
away from where you were born, like the Prophet Yusuf did in
Egypt long, long ago.’
Baalbek – 1145
‘Please, please tell us the story again! Please!’ The three brothers
were with their father, Ayyub, in the garden of his fine house in
the old town. Turan Shah, the oldest boy, was next to his father.
Yusuf, now seven years old, held Al-Adil, the baby, in his arms
and sat as near as he could to listen.
Ayyub smiled and began:
Six years before our Yusuf here was born, I was near the river
Tigris catching some birds for your mother to cook for dinner.
Suddenly, I saw a man on the other side of the water. He was having
trouble running. He had blood all over his face and clothes, but he still
carried his sword. Behind him I could see many soldiers riding fast
horses. I thought quickly. Near me was a small fishing boat. I jumped
in and pushed it across the river with a long stick.
Just then, the soldiers started to get near the water. I called to the
man and helped him into the boat. I pushed the boat quickly into
the river while the soldiers started shooting at us.