The Xylokerkos or Xerokerkos Gate of the Theodosian Land Walls of Constantinople, now known as the Belgrade Gate (Belgrat Kapısı), stands between towers 22 and 23, around 750 meters to the north of the Yedikule Fortress. Its name derives from the fact that it led to a wooden circus (amphitheatre) outside the walls. The gate complex is approximately 12 meters wide and almost 20 meters high, while the gate itself spans 5 meters.

The gatehouse, once crowned with a merloned parapet-walk, was constructed from massive stone blocks and pierced by a lofty vaulted archway. None of its original fittings have survived. The first stories of the nearly square gateway towers can still be reached from beneath the staircase on the city side, while the upper chambers were accessed through the parapet-walk. Today, however, the outer gateway has vanished entirely.

The Belgrade Gate was the second most important entrance to Constantinople, ranking just after the famed Golden Gate (Altınkapı). Set along the same axis as the Forum of Arcadius, its significance was further marked by the placement of the city’s third miliarium here—a powerful symbol of distance and dominion.

Chronicler Niketas Choniates recounts a curious episode during the Third Crusade in 1189: Emperor Isaac II Angelos, fearing a prophecy that Western Emperor Frederick Barbarossa would storm the city through this very entrance, ordered the gate to be sealed. Though it was reopened in 1346, it was closed once more on the eve of the fateful siege of 1453. During that final defence of the city, the gate was entrusted to a Venetian commandant and came under the furious assault of Ishak and Mahmut Pashas.

After the Ottoman conquest, tradition holds that the gate was walled up and left sealed for centuries, perhaps until the 19th century. Yet, the presence of an Ottoman bridge just before the gate suggests that it was never fully closed throughout the Ottoman period. Still, its early Turkish name — Kapalı Kapı, the Closed Gate — reveals something of its fate. Following the Ottoman-Russian War of 1877–1878, the gate was reopened once again, this time to provide access to the Greek Hospital of Balıklı, and soon after, it took its enduring name from the neighbourhood beyond its threshold.

The gate's current name is related to the times when, after conquering Belgrade in 1521, sultan Suleyman the Magnificent resettled the town's population. He relocated several groups to Constantinople itself, in areas which became known as Belgrade Forest and Belgrade Gate. Following the usual pattern of the day, ethnic groups were specialized in certain crafts and jobs. Inhabitants of Belgrade Forest worked on maintenance of the freshwater reservoirs in the forest. The water was then transferred via aqueducts to downtown.

There are no surviving records on the specialization of the residents of Belgrade Gate, but based on the surviving artifacts and memorials from that period, they were probably in the business of leather crafting. Today, Belgradkapı is a quarter in Kazlıçeşme neighbourhood of the Zeytinburnu district of Istanbul.

Over the centuries, the gate suffered repeated blows from earthquakes, the most devastating of which struck in 1894, toppling the upper levels and the last surviving merlons. By the time Bruno Meyer-Plath and Alfons Maria Schneider visited in the early 1930s, only the first stretch of the rear gateway's vault was still standing. They noted extensive Late Byzantine and Ottoman-era repairs, particularly in the towers — evidence of centuries of patchwork survival.

Nineteenth-century photographs reveal these later interventions as well: fractured stretches of the outer walls are visible, but the outer gate itself had already disappeared. Then, in the late 20th century, a sweeping reconstruction transformed the site once more. Builders, using imitation Theodosian masonry, almost entirely rebuilt the gate, erasing many of the visible traces of older repairs. These modern restorations extended across the gatehouse — both the main and parts of the outer sections — along with the gateway towers, the profiled mouldings that marked tower floors, the loopholes, the merlons, and even the adjoining stretches of wall on both the city and field sides.

Sights near the gate

There are two sights worthy mentioning in the immediate vicinity of the Belgrade Gate. The first one stands within the area encompassed by the walls. Hidden just behind the Belgrade Gate of Constantinople's ancient Theodosian Walls, 120 meters to the east of the gate, stands a modest but deeply resonant sanctuary: the Panagia Belgradkapı, or the Church of the Holy Mother of God. Its weathered stones carry the story of exile, devotion, and endurance that bridges empires and faiths.

When Sultan Suleyman the Magnificent conquered Belgrade in 1521, he relocated thousands of its Christian inhabitants to Istanbul. Among the new arrivals—artisans, merchants, and soldiers — some settled beside this southern stretch of the city walls. The gate itself became known as Belgradkapı, the "Belgrade Gate." According to tradition, these settlers built a church dedicated to St. Paraskevi, a saint venerated in the Balkans. They are said to have brought her relics with them from their homeland. The little church quickly became the spiritual heart of the transplanted community, a memory of Belgrade itself set in stone.

The relics of St. Paraskevi did not remain there for long. In 1539, they were transferred to the Church of Pammakaristos — then the seat of the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople. The Pammakaristos Church, a former Byzantine monastery, had become one of the most important Orthodox centres in the post-conquest city, serving as the patriarchal cathedral from around 1456 to 1587. But its fate, too, reflected the city's shifting faiths: in 1587, Sultan Murad III converted the church into a mosque — known today as Fethiye Camii — and the Patriarchate moved to the Church of St. George in the Phanar district, where it remains to this day.

Meanwhile, the small church at the Belgrade Gate continued to serve its local Orthodox congregation. Over the centuries, it suffered damage, repairs, and neglect. By the early 19th century, the older structure had fallen into ruin. In 1837, a new three-aisled basilica rose on the same site. The architect, Hadji Nikolaos, designed it in the neoclassical Orthodox style then common in Istanbul. Master carvers — among them Siljan of Vrben (in present-day North Macedonia) —adorned the façades and left Cyrillic inscriptions, quiet traces of the church's Balkan roots. The building measured about 24.24 m in length, 14.58 m in width, and 9.5 m in height — a modest but refined house of worship with elegant wooden furnishings. A cross above the courtyard gate bears the date 1895, marking a later restoration or embellishment.

Tragedy struck in the 20th century. During the Istanbul pogrom of 1955, when mobs attacked the city's Greek and other Christian institutions, the Panagia Belgradkapı was stormed and set ablaze. Its iconostasis, icons, and relics were destroyed; the sacred interior was reduced to ashes. For the next decade, the surviving community painstakingly restored what they could. A further renovation in 1999 helped stabilize the structure and restore its quiet dignity.

Today, the Panagia Belgradkapı belongs to the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople. Services are held occasionally, and the church stands as one of the few surviving Orthodox sanctuaries along the land walls.

Walking away from the Belgrade Gate and towards the west, after just 70 meters, you come almost unexpectedly upon the Barış ve Kültür Heykeli — the Statue of Peace and Culture. It rises at a crossroads, where the old stones of the city walls meet the modern hustle of traffic, buses, and daily life.

When you look up, you see three hands reaching together, lifting half the globe in their palms. From this globe sprout olive branches — ancient symbols of peace—not oriented toward a single horizon but stretching outward, touching the space above you. These hands are more than sculpture: they embody the three traditions of this neighbourhood — Turkish, Greek, and Armenian —hands that carry different histories, different memories, yet share this ground beneath them.

The statue was born of a vision: Murat Aydın, then mayor, imagined it as more than decoration. He saw it as an affirmation that even in a district that has witnessed upheaval and change, peace and culture endure as binding forces. In 2001, the statue took its place, standing as a quiet memorial to what shared identity can be. Murat Aydın, who started this initiative, became the mayor of Zeytinburnu in 1999, and was re-elected in 2004, 2009, and 2014 — a total of four terms.

The statue's modest size gives it visibility without overwhelming the historic walls or the urban fabric around it. Though not ancient, the statue quickly became a local landmark. Many visitors of the Belgradkapı and the Theodosian Walls stop to see it. Some locals and commentators regard it as a symbol of the multi-ethnic fabric of Istanbul and Zeytinburnu, even if its artistic value is sometimes debated.