Late that night, Ayyub heard a soft knock at the door. It was his
brother Shirkuh asking for news.
‘The baby hasn’t come yet. The mother’s having a bad time.’
The father looked at his brother. ‘Why are you hurrying?’
‘Ayyub. I’ve just killed a man by mistake, but I was angry.’
‘Shirkuh! Why did you do this? It’ll be difficult for us here in
Tikrit. The man’s family will make trouble.’
‘I couldn’t stop myself. While I was coming home, a woman
called out for help. A soldier was going to kill her. I didn’t want
to hurt him. It was an accident. But now Governor Zengi says
that all our family must leave at once or we’ll be in danger.’
‘Oh, Shirkuh! You’re a fighter. You’re stronger than most men.
But when you’re angry, you stop thinking. It’s always been this
way, but I can’t leave until the child arrives.’
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.’