Little Hagia Sophia is a small domed church of the 530s, now a working mosque, on a quiet lane below the old palace ground. You step in and the space opens upward into a ribbed, melon-shaped dome resting on a ring of columns in green and red marble. Light slides down between the two tiers of the colonnade. Carved capitals still carry the monograms of Justinian and Theodora, who built it, and a Greek verse runs along the entablature naming the emperor, his empress and the soldier-saint Sergius.
It went up as the Church of Saints Sergius and Bacchus between 527 and 536, on ground that belonged to the Palace of Hormisdas, where Justinian lived before he took the throne. The palace is gone; the church outlived it and has held worship, in one faith or another, without a break for fifteen centuries. The quarter that took its name still runs downhill from the walls of the mosque to the Marmara shore, a grid of narrow lanes where old timber houses lean over the pavement.