Another illustration is the ḥadith narrated by Abū Hurayrah about two women who went out with their two infant sons. A wolf snatched and devoured the child of one of them, while the other boy survived. Each woman then claimed, “He is my son,” and so they brought the case before David—peace be upon him. Exercising his own judgment, David awarded the child to the elder woman, reasoning that she might have reached the end of her child-bearing years, whereas the younger woman was still youthful and could conceive again.

Unsatisfied, they went on to Solomon, David’s son, and related the matter to him. Solomon asked for a knife and announced, “I shall cut the child in half and give each of you one part.” The elder woman accepted the proposal, but the younger protested, saying, “He is her son,” for compassion seized her—it was in fact her own child. As for the elder, she felt no real concern; this was not her son, and the loss would hardly trouble her after the wolf had already taken her own child.

Seeing the younger woman’s mercy—preferring that the boy live, even if raised by another, rather than be divided in two—Solomon ruled in her favour. On what basis? On circumstantial evidence: her willingness to relinquish the child so that he might survive was a far stronger proof of true maternity than any verbal claim. Thus the boy was awarded to the younger woman.

From this report the jurists deduced that a judge may rule on the strength of circumstantial evidence when it is compelling.

A similar principle appears in the incident involving the wife of al-ʿAzīz and Joseph, son of Jacob—peace be upon them both. As is well known, Joseph was later imprisoned. He had been endowed with extraordinary beauty—half of all worldly comeliness, it is said. Despite the wife of al-ʿAzīz being a woman of nobility and high standing, she could not restrain herself. She plotted against him, enticed him into her quarters, locked the doors, and invited him to sin—God’s refuge is sought. But he