They went out of the cottage, and came together to the place of torture....
It was a black night, save where the clouds—coursing in the sky like stags before the keen north wind—were parted here and there so as to disclose the glittering face of some star.
By the remnants of the pile strode a sergeant of the commune, up and down, keeping guard. Soetkin and Ulenspiegel heard his steps as they resounded on the hardened ground, and together with that sound there came the cry of a raven, calling his fellows, doubtless; for from far away there came the sound of other caws in answer.
Ulenspiegel and Soetkin by the Dead Body of Claes
As Soetkin and Ulenspiegel approached the pile the raven swooped down upon the shoulder of Claes, and they could hear its beak pecking upon the body. And soon the other ravens followed. Ulenspiegel would have thrown himself upon the pile and beaten them off had not the sergeant come up and prevented him.
“Are you a sorcerer,” cried the man, “that comes hither for the hands of the dead as a talisman, and yet do you not know that the hands of a man that has been burnt to death possess no power of invisibility, but only hands of one who has been hanged—such as you yourself will be one of these days?”
“Sir,” Ulenspiegel replied, “I am no sorcerer, but the orphaned son of the man tied to this stake here. And this woman is the dead man’s widow. We only wish to kiss him once again, and to take away a few of his ashes in his memory. Give us leave, sir, pray, for you are certainly no foreign soldier, but a son of this land.”
“Very well,” said the sergeant.
So the orphan and the widow made their way over the charred wood and approached the body. Weeping, they both kissed the face of Claes.