From Constantinople, the fictional John Mandeville outlines his travels to Greek islands–still on his way to the Holy Land. This section of The Travels of Sir John Mandeville builds upon the narrator’s identification of Greek Christians as different from the Western Christians within Mandeville’s audience. He asserts the necessity of this distinction, writing, “For many people take great pleasure and comfort to hear talk of unfamiliar things” (14). This statement reflects both Mandeville’s bias and his purpose for writing a travel account. Aside from the trees on the island of Chios, he does not provide ethnographic details about Greece. This choice focuses Mandeville’s account on the importance of religious sites rather than the people who inhabit them.

Thus, Mandeville spends more time writing about locations integral to Christian memory. To Mandeville, the importance of a place is dependent upon what event happened there. While less significant places are merely listed, many locations are denoted by an associated Christian figure or relic. Furthermore, Mandeville takes more time to address the most relevant places and their story, whether historical, mythical, or Biblical. Mandeville associates Patmos with being, “where Saint John the Evangelist wrote the Apocalypse” (14). Rather than talking about the island’s terrain or people, Mandeville instead tells his reader about Saint John–quickly shifting his location to Ephesus, where Saint John died.

Mandeville describes Ephesus more than the preceding Greek islands, signaling its value to his audience. He calls it, “a lovely city” (14), on account of the fact that it was once controlled by Christians. To Mandeville, the hallmark of Ephesus is the tomb of Saint John and the mysterious whereabouts of his body. Similar to the provenance of the relics he encountered in Constantinople, Mandeville highlights that the story of Saint John’s tomb is contentious. He notes that, “some men say that his body was translated to Paradise” (14), while others believe, “he did not die but that he is resting there until the Day of Judgement” (14). By addressing various conclusions to the question of Saint John’s tomb, Mandeville maintains the site’s relevance, making it contemporary to his reader rather than solely historical.

Beyond Ephesus, Mandeville briefly accounts for Patera, the birthplace of Saint Nicholas, and its wine, before writing about the island of Lango. In contrast to previous locations, Mandeville’s description of Lango is tethered to regional myth. He outlines the presumed origin of the island, noting it to be, “Hippocrates’ daughter in the form of a dragon” (15). Mandeville goes on to detail a story about a young maiden being transformed into a dragon, with only a bold, brave knight able to save her. Similar to his description of holy, Christian relics and sites, Mandeville constructs an ultimatum of fate. If the young maiden is kissed by the right knight, she will no longer be a dragon. Similarly, if Saint John is in his tomb, when the Day of Judgement arrives, he will reappear. The ‘if’ within Mandeville’s account adds a layer of intrigue, positioning him as a storyteller rather than a travel expert.

Although Mandeville is less receptive to the customs of Greek Christians, this section illustrates his appreciation for explanations different than his own. Since Mandeville’s account is not rooted in fact, the power of a place is dependent on its associated myth–whether secular, pagan, or Christian. Though this account tracks Mandeville’s journey to Jerusalem, he does not condemn the stories of other cultures, but embraces them. Mandeville bridges the gap between his travels and his reader by underscoring the continuous, cross-cultural practice of storytelling.

After leaving Constantinople, the next place John Mandeville describes in detail is the island of Cyprus. Mandeville, writing for the benefit of prospective pilgrims, for the most part maintains his religious focus when describing the island. He informs his readers that there is an archbishop at Nicosia, along with four others in the region. Along with this he says that in Cyprus there is the Hill of the Holy Cross of the good thief Dysmas, along with the burial sites of St Sozomenos, an ecclesiastical historian, and St Hilarion, and that St Bernard was born near the city of Famagusta on the island. Pilgrims using Mandeville’s book as a guide for their own journeys would surely find such information useful, as they were on the look out for places to display their piety. Mandeville even warns pilgrims that the locals advertise that they have half of the Holy Cross upon which Jesus was crucified, but it is a fraud and that they sin by saying so.

Mandeville does, however, include more practical and secular information about Cyprus as well. In fact, the first thing he says about the island is that a variety of grapes which start red and turn white after a year grow there, and that these grapes are “…utterly translucent and have the best scent.” Descriptions of local produce like this have not been mentioned before, so it is interesting that he would want to include it here. Mandeville also informs us that the city of Famagusta has an excellent harbor and that “…Christians, Saracens, and people of all nations live there.” It is interesting to note how matter of fact the zealous Mandeville talks about the island’s Muslim inhabitants. On top of this he describes how the Cypriots hunt with papiouns, a type of big cat similar to a leopard though modern scholars do not know what it could actually be. Mandeville also reports that Cypriots eat on the ground in massive ditches dug for that purpose up to the knees. He says this is because it keeps food more fresh in the hot climate of the island, though when foreigners come for great feasts they set up tables for them, but would prefer eating on the floor.

Because Mandeville is an invented character and did not actually go to Cyprus, it is difficult to tell if any of the information he relays is true. The strange eating custom could be something the author heard from someone else and believed it, but just as easily be something he decided would be fun to make people believe. The fact scholars have no idea what a papiouns is, and that Mandeville claims Cypriots use these animals which he says are larger than lions to hunt is too strange to believe. Which begs the question of what he gains from making this up? He seems to sincerely want people to be informed about the pilgrimage route and where to stop on the way by the fact he warns readers where frauds are, but his own fraudulent information seems to work against this stated goal. This disconnect continues down to smaller details: usually light on the practicalities of travel, he claims Cyprus is nearly 500 miles from Rhodes. No it isn’t, the distance is much closer to 300 miles. It may be an innocuous detail, but it seems strange to me that he feels the need to include such a detail when he never has before, and it is just plain wrong.