He's poor and ragged and very thin.

You might know he'd been fighting the heathen for the Holy sepulchre, and so entitled to respect, no matter what his condition.

And behind him are five clansmen as ragged as he.

But a big German trooper rolls up.
"And what are you ?" says the big, burly fellow.
"A gentleman, I hope," says the ragged chief.
"'Tis yourself that says it," laughs the German trooper.

The chieftain snicks the knife from his armpit, and sticks him in the jugular as neat as be damned.
"You'd might take that out, Kevin Beg"-- the Irish chief points to the killed man--"and throw it in the canal.